


And Free They Must Remain

by lifeofsnark



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1930s AU, And Ben is this really smart former Wall Street man, Bank Robbers, F/M, Gotta love Milton, Oh not a sex tag but this is basically an ode to Paradise Lost, Oral Sex, Plot tags first-, Rey and Ben meet just after Ben robs a bank, SEX TAGS WOOO:, See! I'm telling you up front that this ain't healthy, Voyeurism, bonnie & clyde au, codependent relationship, cutest little killer dillers, lots of robbing and wrongdoing, my murder babies having fun, p in v, set during Great Depression, sexual showers, sexual washing, then they start meeting their gang members, there may some heavier stuff later but I will tag as added, they fall in love, this is slightly dirtybadwrong, unprotected sex, who has philosophical thoughts but also wears suspenders and is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofsnark/pseuds/lifeofsnark
Summary: Bonnie and Clyde AU:Ben dives through the door of Rey's car with a bag of cash and tells her to drive. They go on to form a partnership that lives in infamy.~~~EXCERPT:“Register,” said Ben, jogging out from behind the counter.Rey’s heart was racing, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She’d spent her entire life trying to get by, just keeping her head down and doing the right thing, waiting for it to pay off.It hadn’t. In exchange for her faith in the universe she had a couple good scars and a ribcage you could play like a xylophone.She stuffed cash into the pockets of her pants and when that didn’t work she shoved bills into her shirt, under the band of linen that was an essential part of her boy’s disguise.Ben came skidding around a corner, a burlap sack dangling from one fist. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing her with his other hand, and then they were running through the heat, laughing and coughing from the dust they kicked up, leaping into the car and roaring off towards the sunset.





	1. Paradise Lost

_“Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.”_

 

Rey didn’t expect her day to begin with grand theft via automobile. She particularly wasn’t expecting to be in the car that was stolen.

 

Rey had been sitting in her car, wanting desperately to join the line for the soup kitchen but also terrified that she’d be discovered as a woman traveling alone. She’d just drummed up the courage to get out of the car when a giant, strange man dove into her front seat.

 

“Just drive!” said the man who’d leapt in beside her. “C’mon, Joe, the banker is after me and I can make you a very rich man.”

 

The stranger reached into the pillowcase he was holding on his lap and held a fist full of cash towards Rey. “Just drive; drive and you won’t ever have to come back to this piss-ass town again!”

 

Rey drove. Her car asthmatically wheezed to life, the engine just as dust-choked as everything else in this godforsaken town. She put it in gear and pulled out onto the street, thinking all the while of where this guy had gotten a bag full of cash.

 

“You stole that, didn’t you,” she said, taking the next turn hard. She didn’t know where she was going, but she getting the hell out of town. One more turn and she headed west, right of out Tulia, Texas.

 

Her old car didn’t have much initial energy, but once it hit the straightaway the thing could pick up speed.

 

“You stole that!” she shouted again, holding her hat down flat to her head, hoping her hair would stay up in the soft newsie cap.

 

“What do you think?” asked Rey’s passenger, a huge grin on his face. They crested one hill, the car jolting in the ruts of the road, and then plunged down the other side. Rey’s passenger ripped his hat off his head, held it into the air, and _laughed._  

 

Rey glanced at him, getting an image of tanned skin, strong jaw, and a nose that looked like something out of Ancient Rome. She looked back at the road stretched before her, the dirt packed hard and baked by the sun. She realized she was grinning too- finally, after years of subsistence and worry, Rey felt like she was living.

 

~~~

 

She didn’t slow down until darkness fell. “What should we do?” she asked. At least they could hear each other now that the car was only crawling (limping) along.

 

“Just pull over somewhere,” he said.

 

“Where are we?” asked Rey.

 

“Does it matter?” asked her passenger, tossing his sack of cash into the back of the car.

 

“I guess not,” Rey allowed. She’d aided and abetted a bank robber: probably it didn’t matter where she was.

 

“I’m Ben, by the way,” said the man. “You got a light in here?”

 

“There’s a flash-light on the back floorboard,” said Rey. “I’m going to see if I can find something to burn.”

 

Everything was dry these days. Dirt blew off the earth in huge clouds and scrab-brush was dead enough to snap between your fingers. Even Rey’s skin was cracked and desiccated: the air seemed to steal the moisture right out of her body.

 

The problem, particularly tonight, was simple: there was nothing around to burn. Deserts weren’t exactly filled with kindling, and these days most of the country was a desert.

 

“There’s a newspaper back here,” Ben called as Rey prowled through the little hills and valleys of hard-packed Texas panhandle. “We can burn that.”

 

“No point,” called Rey, returning to the car. “It’ll only light for a second, and it’s not like we’ve got something to cook.”

 

“Fair point,” said Ben. “What’d you say your name was again?”

 

Rey hadn’t introduced herself: deep down she’d been hoping that she could just slip away, just pretend this hadn’t happened. She was still dressed in her boy’s clothes, and if Ben didn’t know her name he couldn’t report her to the police.

 

Rey opened her mouth, intending to lie right up until the final second. She’d accepted stolen cash, and hell- what did she have to lose? “I’m Rey,” she said. “Rey Parker.”

 

Ben stuck out his hand. “Ben Solo. Nice to meet you, Rey. What’s your story?”

 

Ben was sitting in the backseat, his arm draped over the cushion and his legs spread in a graceful sprawl. Rey hopped into the front seat with her back against the door and her legs along the padded bench. Now that she wasn’t driving she’d finally gotten a good look at her new partner in crime.

 

His hair was dark, nearly black, and shamefully long, long enough to fit into a short tail. His pants were held up with dark suspenders, which disappeared under a vest that had once been silver. It looked like silk, too, and Rey wondered where he’d gotten it.

 

“C’mon, Rey, what’s your story?” he asked. “You living in this tin can? Got a blanket back here.” He picked up the worn quilt, and something slipped onto the floor. The next time he sat back up he was holding Rey’s little Smith & Wesson.

 

The gun looked small in his big hand, and he held it in his palm for a moment like he was going to guess its weight. After a long second of terror- what if he shot her and took her car?- he passed the gun over the seat to Rey.

 

Rey tucked the gun under the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I’m living in the car. What about you?”

 

“I’m living wherever I can,” said Ben. “But mostly I’m dying’ by increments.”

 

“Nice vest,” commented Rey. Now that night had fallen it was chilly, but she wasn’t going to try to take the blanket from Ben. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Rey had long suspected that whoever coined the phrase ‘honor among thieves’ hadn’t been an honest man.

 

Ben shrugged and let his head fall back against the seat. In the late-evening gloom Rey could just make out that his eyes were closed, his eyelashes a dark curve against his cheek.  “Wore it to work the day everything went to shit. Wore it right on out of the city, out of my old life.”

 

“What’d you do?” asked Rey.

 

One of Ben’s eyes popped open and his lips tipped up in a humorless smile. “I was an broker on Wall Street. I lived my whole life in Manhattan; hadn’t even seen a fruit tree. I walked out of the city and all around me bodies were falling like rain.”

 

There was a break in the conversation then; each of them thinking of that fateful October day nearly three years previously.

 

“I was living on a farm in Oklahoma,” said Rey. “Bunked out in the barn, got two square meals a day. We grew corn and soybeans, had a milk cow and a couple drafts. All of a sudden we couldn’t sell the corn; not a damn person was buying. We burned it that winter to keep warm. Then the land started to blow away.”

 

It was all true. She _had_ been working on Plutt’s farm, had been there her whole damn life.

 

“Where’d you get the car?” asked Ben, his eyes closed once more.

 

Rey had flat out stolen the car. She’d worked for Plutt every day since the age of four- he had to owe her something more than beatings and over-boiled food. “Back pay,” said Rey, more confidently than she felt.

 

“Nice!” said Ben, slapping his knee. “I can’t believe these fucking bastards,” he added conversationally. “Oh! Here.”

 

He dug in the pocket of his discarded coat and came up with a foil-wrapped square. Inside was a slightly squashed sandwich that smelled like eggs and salvation. Ben passed Rey half the sandwich which she could only look at for a moment: it had been two days since she’d eaten, and Rey had learned from experience that if she wolfed this down it would only come right back up.

 

“Flash bastard at the counter had brought this for his lunch,” said Ben, taking a bite that was nearly half his portion. “Figured this was just as valuable as the cash, you know?”

 

At this point Rey would rather have an infinite supply of egg sandwiches than any amount of cash.

 

“Thanks,” she said around a miniscule amount of her own dinner.

 

At some point Rey fell asleep. She hadn’t intended to; she’d been trying to stay awake. Nevertheless she woke just as dawn began to lighten the eastern sky. Ben was already up. He was leaning against the side of the car, his back to Rey and his face to the growing light.

 

Rey’s hand immediately flew to her cap, hoping it was still on, still hiding her- no.

 

Ben glanced over his shoulder at her and then looked back to the pinkening horizon. “Calm down, kitten. I knew you were a girl since I hopped in your car. You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

“Sorry if I don’t believe the word of a thief,” said Rey, all affronted dignity.

 

Ben turned around and very pointedly looked at the car and the clothes on Rey’s body.

 

“There’s a difference,” she protested. “It’s wrong,” she added more weakly.

 

“Who decides what’s ‘wrong’?” asked Ben. “Bunch of dead assholes in the Bible? A bunch of rich old men who don’t give a fuck about what happens to the rest of us? It’s every man for himself, sweetheart. Or herself,” he added as an afterthought.

 

“But…” Rey didn’t have anything to say to that. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that nobody did anything for free.

 

“Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven,” quipped Ben, looking back at her once more. “Want to come with me?”

 

Rey studied Ben, this handsome, smart-talking man with the face of an angel and the honey-kissed serpent's tongue.

 

“Where are you going?” asked Rey, putting her hat back on but allowing her hair to curl around her shoulders.

 

Ben smiled, white teeth flashing in the fading dark. “Anywhere you want.”

 

~~~

They drove west.

 

The car was hissing and spitting when they finally came to a gas station on the edge of another dust-stained town.

 

“We need water and gas,” said Rey, pulling into the service station’s hard-packed yard.

 

“I’m on it,” said Ben. Rey stood at the pump, listening to gas slosh its way into the car, while Ben went inside for water.

 

He came out with a big tin jug and poured water into the radiator, sending a hissing cloud of steam into the hot, dry air.

 

“Did you find out where we are?” asked Rey, hanging the gas line back onto the pump.

 

“Clovis, New Mexico,” said Ben. “They’ve got cold ham in there. Want some?”

 

Rey’s mouth watered, and she blotted away the saliva with the back of her hand. “That’d be good,” she said. “Fill this up, too,” she said, tossing her canteen his way.

 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a little bow.

 

A few minutes later they were back on the road, Rey eating a thick slab of her ham with her fingers.

 

“You pay for this?” she asked.

 

“‘Course I did,” said Ben. “No fun stealing from people who are just about starving themselves.”

 

Rey felt better after that.

~~~

 

Rey committed her first crime three days later. She wasn’t counting that first day back in Tulia: she hadn’t actually _known_ that she was saving a robber. All she’d wanted had been a bowl of thin-brothed soup.

 

This time, though, this time was intentional.

 

They were at yet another wind-blown gas station in yet another half-abandoned town. It didn’t seem to matter where Rey was anymore. Everything, everyone was the same, everyone but Ben. He nearly vibrated with anger and energy and emotional charge, he colored the washed-out landscape that seemed to unroll endlessly beneath their tires.

 

Rey was pumping gas, leaning against the side of car, and as Ben walked across the hard-packed yard of the service station Rey was stuck all over again at the physical beauty that was Ben.

 

Ben returned to the car with a scowl on his face. “The man in there said he didn’t have anything ‘for no empty-pocketed Okie’,” said Ben, mimicking a southern drawl. “Took one look at me and assumed we wouldn’t be paying.”

 

“More fool him,” said Rey, studying Ben’s face.

 

“I think we ought to show him what he gets,” said Ben, and this time his smile was carnivorous. “He doesn’t need all that food, all that cash. Let’s make it sting a bit.”

 

When Rey was a kid she’d run away from home. She’d walked along for more than a day until she’d come to a gorge, a little stream rushing along at the bottom. The sides had been so steep, all jagged rocks and hard-packed clay. Rey had stood there, desperately wanting so badly to be free, but too afraid to take the plunge. Too aware of the potential pain.

 

Rey had gone home that day, back to a decade of abuse and deprivation.

 

She had that edge-of-the-cliff feeling again, and this time she wasn’t going to turn away. “Let’s go,” she said, and before she could ask _anything-_ did he have a plan? How would they do this?- he was kissing her.

 

Rey’s back was against the warm metal of the car, the air smelled of alkaline dusk and gasoline, and Ben tasted like the future. He hadn’t shaved in the days they’d been together, and his jaw was rough with dark stubble.

 

“Just follow me,” he murmured against her neck, her cheek, and then he was loping away into the dirt colored building.

 

Rey sprinted after him, and she wrenched the door open just in time to see Ben slide across the counter on his hip, those long legs out in front of him, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. Before the clerk even knew what was happening Ben punched him in the jaw, the thrown fist all a part of that long, fluid leap.

 

“Pass me that cord,” Ben said, pointing to a small selection of rope hanging by the door. Rey did as she was told, and before the clerk had reoriented himself he was trussed, wrist and ankle, facedown on the floor.

 

“Register,” said Ben, jogging out from behind the counter.

 

Rey’s heart was racing, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She’d spent her entire life trying to get by, just keeping her head down and doing the right thing, waiting for it to pay off.

 

It hadn’t. In exchange for her faith in the universe she had a couple good scars and a ribcage you could play like a xylophone.

 

She stuffed cash into the pockets of her pants and when that didn’t work she shoved bills into her shirt, under the band of linen that was an essential part of her boy’s disguise.

 

Ben came skidding around a corner, a burlap sack dangling from one fist. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing her with his other hand, and then they were running through the heat, laughing and coughing from the dust they kicked up, leaping into the car and roaring off towards the sunset.

 

“Oh my god!” yelled Rey, her fingers tight on the wheel. “Goddamn!”

 

“You did it!” said Ben, laughing again. “You fucking did it!”

 

~~~

 

A month after running away with Ben- because that’s what she’d done, when you got right down to it- Rey lost her innocence in every way that mattered.

 

She’d learned to steal a car- Plutt’s old T was left in a drift of silty-fine dirt somewhere in Kansas, along with any reservation’s of Rey’s. They had more canteens, too, and handkerchiefs and blankets and even driving goggles that made Ben laugh and laugh and kiss Rey until she was breathless and silly.

 

They slept together in the most innocent way, curled between two blankets and around the other. Ben was so tall and so warm- Rey retroactively wished that she’d had him with her for the last fifteen years of winters. Maybe should wouldn’t have fallen asleep while praying to wake up with all of her fingers and toes.

 

Somewhere in southwest Colorado Rey killed her first man.

 

“Get away from the register!” Ben yelled, brandishing a Colt he’d stolen somewhere along the way.

 

Rey’s nose was covered by a bandana and her hat was pulled down low. Her hands didn’t shake now, not anymore. Now she rode on the wave of adrenaline and fear, now she felt truly and fully _alive._

 

Usually the grocery or shop clerk ducked away from the guns, babbling about mercy and the key to the safe.

 

This clerk came up with a loaded gun.

 

The first blast whizzed by Rey’s head and shattered the shelving behind her. She jumped to the side, hiding behind a new electric refrigerator close to the door.

 

“Get out here, you goons!” roared the shopkeeper. Rey peeked out from behind the smooth bulk of the icebox: where was Ben?

 

A shot was returned from behind a display of canned goods, and then another one quickly followed, the lower caliber rounds sounding almost tinny compared to the blast of the grocer’s sawed-off.

 

“C’mout you bastards,” said the grocery, rounding his counter and slowly prowling towards the shelf hiding Ben.

 

“C’mout, c’mout wherever you are,” he crooned, the barrel of his gun slowly sweeping from side to side. Rey knew that if he went a little further he’d see Ben, and then everything would end, be ruined, be gone forever.

 

She was off to the shopkeeper’s right side, and slowly she rose from her spot behind the electric fridge. She rested her elbows on the smooth dome of the icebox, took aim, and fired.

 

The first shot went through the grocer’s neck just below his jaw and the spray of blood was enough to make Rey’s knees weak. Without conscious thought she squeezed the trigger again, and this time the shot caught the wounded man on the side of his head. The report of the bullet was echoed by the crack of his skull.

 

“Ben?” Rey whispered, still leaning on the refrigerator.

 

“I’m here,” he said, jogging around the shelf to her. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked, pressing kisses to her hair and forehead and cheeks. “You did it sweetheart, you did it. You got him, you saved me, you did it Rey.”

 

“It was him or you,” said Rey. She felt like she coming out of a deep sleep, finally opening her eyes to the world around her.

 

“It was him or you,” she repeated more strongly, and now she was back on top of that wave instead of beneath it.

 

“It always is, baby. We’re the only ones who are gonna look out for us, it’s always us or them. Don’t matter who the ‘them’ is- humans are just one missed meal or crashed bank away from animals.  ‘There is one general law, leading to the advancement of all beings:  let the strongest live and the weakest die.’ That’s all it is, kitten.”

 

He was still rocking Rey, and she could smell wind and sweat on his shirt. “What’s that from?” she asked.

 

“Darwin’s ‘ _Origin of Species_ ’,” said Ben with some satisfaction. “You ready to go?”

 

“Yeah, just one thing,” said Rey, letting go of Ben. She walked past the grocer’s body, careful not to look at it too closely, and picked the shotgun off the floor. “Now I’m ready,” she said.

 

Ben’s smile was a baptism: it was the love of parents who hadn’t wanted her, it was salve for beatings given without thought or compassion, it was the warmth she’d always sought like a flower seeks the sun.

 

He was hers, and she was his, and it was a bond forged in blood and gunsmoke. They were animals, him and her, perfect mates and predators.

 

~~~

 

Ben drove away from this one, his fingers tapping on the gearshift, his eyes crinkled from a smile. They rode in reckless abandon, glasses and place and bandanas over their faces to filter out some of the dust. They drove towards the sun which was low and red in the sky, the light catching the dust that perpetually hung in the air and turned the Plains into something alien and hostile.

 

As the sun set they came to an auto park, most of the little cabins dark and empty.

 

“Let’s sleep inside tonight,” said Ben, slowing.

 

“You sure we can afford it?” ask Rey, her voice high and teasing.

 

Her insolence earned her a kiss, the hard, hungry kind that she was coming to love. Ben grabbed her and hauled her to him, his teeth nipping and tongue tasting the sass on her lips. His fist would be in her hair, almost hard enough to hurt, and Rey wanted only to be consumed by him.

 

“Let’s check in,” he said, and grabbed his gunny sack out of the back.

 

“Sure,” she said, and started tucking her hair up into her hat.

 

“Not this time,” said Ben, grabbing the hat off her head. “Ready to go in Mrs… Clyde?”

 

“Ready when you are, Mr. Clyde,” said Rey just as lightly, though her heart throbbed.

 

Ben grinned and winged an arm at her, and within fifteen they were ensconced in their own cabin at the far end of the semi-circle.

 

Rey stood in the center of the floor, her half-empty pillowcase dangling from her fingers. She wasn’t sure what to do now: despite it all, she’d never slept with a man, not… biblically.

 

Ben came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist, nuzzling along the side of her neck. “Why don’t we rinse off,” he said, and his voice was lower and more serious than normal. Rey wanted to wrap herself in that baritone rumble.

 

“Good idea,” she said, slightly breathless.

 

The bathroom was small, just a cramped shower, a little pedestal sink, and a toilet in the corner. It didn’t look like Ben would fit in the shower alone, not to mention with her. Shyly Rey undressed, leaving her trousers and breast-linen in place, feeling dirty and timid.

 

“Pretty girl,” said Ben, moving to run his hands up and down her sides. “I should be feeding you feasts, should be wrapping you in silk and lace. You’re too good for this, kitten.” For once he sounded regretful. His dark eyes were gentle, and Rey found herself wanting to comfort him.

 

“Your way sounds boring Mr. Clyde,” she said, stretching up on her toes to gently brush her lips over his.

 

He smiled a little at that, his eyes crinkling. “Goddamn,” he nearly whispered. “You’re just perfect for me, aren’t you.”

 

“I certainly think so,” said Rey, confident again. She wriggled out of her pants and under-panties and kicked them away, slightly dismayed to see a puff of dust rise from them.

 

Ben kissed her again, slowly and deeply, and she could feel his clever fingers pulling the pin from her breast wrapping and loosening the linen there.

 

“I’m going to burn that thing,” he said when he saw Rey’s breasts for the first time. There were red indentations over the top curves of her tits left by the pressure of the linen. He kissed there first, gently, and then sucked one tawny, pebbled nipple between his lips.

 

“Oh,” said Rey, a little surprised by both the act and the sensations evoked. She wrapped an arm around Ben’s shoulder, letting herself slump back a little over her arm, letting him support and seduce her.

 

Ben kissed the valley between her breasts and then moved to the other. “Gotta wash you,” he said, his lips still against her nipple.

 

“Sure,” whispered Rey.

 

Ben crossed to the shower and turned the little spigots while Rey watched in fascination. She’d taken a shower once, at a university in Alabama that had allowed women from the breadline to come in and wash. Plutt hadn’t had electricity, let alone plumbing, and Rey had grown up washing in half a barrel with (at best) lukewarm water.

 

“C’mon, kitten, time for your bath,” said Ben, tugging off his shirt and allowing his suspenders to dangle around those long, muscular thighs. Rey climbed under the spray and closed her eyes, enjoying how the water ran down her hair, her face, her body.

 

She opened her eyes when she heard paper ripping, and she saw Ben unwrapping a small bar of soap. “Scrub a dub dub,” he said, balancing at the edge of the tiled square that served as the shower’s floor. “Let me wash your back.”

 

Rey turned, bowing her head, and then Ben’s big, callused hand was gliding up her back, the water slicking his way. The soap was sharp smelling, but oh _god_ finally she was going to be clean.

 

“I want to kiss every inch of you, babe,” he said, his voice rumbly, like a distant storm slowly moving over the plains. “I want to kiss you until you melt, until all I can think of is you and all you can think of is me, until you go warm and wet and boneless beneath me. I want to hear you say my name.”

 

He was still stroking over her skin, the soap moving over over Rey’s right arm now, up and down, up and down. Even under the warm water Rey got goosebumps, her flesh prickling.

 

“My kitten likes the sound of that,” said Ben, and Rey imagined he was smirking. “Turn around, kitty-kitty,” he crooned, and slowly Rey turned like a music box figurine, her limbs following the music of his voice.

 

Ben ran the soap around one nipple and then the other, watching as they drew up hard and tight from his attentions. “Such pretty tits,” he said, leaning in to press an almost chaste kiss to each one.

 

“Such a pretty girl,” he said again, keeping up a stream of sweet nothings as he washed her ribs, her neck, her belly and hips and sides.

 

“Has any man been here?” he asked, sliding the soap up the inside of one thigh. “Did some grifter talk his way into your sweet little cunny?”

 

“No,” Rey whispered, hypnotized by the patter of his voice, the admiration in his eyes. “No one else.”

 

Ben leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the spot between her hips, just above her little patch of curls. “What a good kitten,” he said, and this time his voice was closer to a growl. “I think you’re clean enough,” he said, reaching behind her to cut off the water. “We’ve got all night.”

 

Rey slowly dried herself with one of the off-white towels hanging on the wall, watching in fascination as Ben stripped and quickly washed himself. He had muscles _everywhere;_ his thighs were nearly as thick as her waist. He was taller than the shower and had to crouch to run water through his hair, and Rey wondered how she’d ended up with this man. It must have been fate that had sent him running to her car, and in that moment, in a quiet cabin along a non-descript stretch of highway, Rey decided that however this all ended, it would have been worth it.

 

“Like what you see?” Ben asked when he killed the water and reached for a towel.

 

“Yes,” whispered Rey in absolute honestly. Yes, she most certainly did.

 

He reached for Rey and kissed her again in that cramped bathroom under the single, naked lightbulb. He smelled like soap and man and water and Rey wanted to lick him- so she did, swiping her tongue along his jaw.

 

“What a sweet kitten,” said Ben, and then he’d swooped her up with an arm behind her shoulders and an arm beneath her knees.

 

“I really do need to feed you better,” he grumbled before dropping her onto the bed and tumbling after her.

 

This kiss had a _purpose_ to it, this wasn’t a kiss of laughter or joy or pleasure or reward: this kiss was an _overture,_ the opening notes of the melody to come.

 

“Stay with me,” Ben whispered into the shadow of Rey’s throat.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, cocking her head to give him access to that soft, ticklish spot behind her ear. He kissed her there and then slid down her body.

 

“Stay with me,” he repeated, pinching one hard nipple and licking the other, the pleasure and pain zinging through Rey’s head and cunt.

 

“Yes!” she whispered again.

 

“Be mine,” he said, grazing his teeth over the sharp crest of one hip.

 

“Yes,” said Rey, spreading her legs in a welcome as old as day and night, man and woman. Thus had Eve welcomed Adam in the garden of their sin, and so would Rey accept Ben.

 

“Love me,” said Ben into the curls over Rey’s cunt, which he parted with his thumbs.

 

“I do!” gasped Rey as he licked a trail of heat and pleasure up her slit. “Oh, god Ben, I do.”

 

It sounded like a wedding. It sounded like a vow.

 

Ben continued to suck on Rey’s clit, the little nubbin she’d found during a bath many summers ago. He knew exactly how to play her- he always did- and soon Rey’s hips were rocking against Ben’s mouth and the muscles in her belly were jumping.

 

Ben had to toss his arm over Rey’s hips to keep her in place, and that only drive her higher- he was so _big,_ and he wanted _her._

 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, kissing the inside of one thigh, and then he returned to the task at hand.

 

Rey came silently, her back bowing off the bed, the space behind her eyes going white and electric, like a prism in the light.

 

“Oh my god,” she gasped, picking her head up only high enough to watch Ben wipe his face on the wool blanket beneath her.

 

“You’re delicious,” he rasped, bracing himself over her. They kissed, and Rey could taste herself on his lips, and then his fingers were probing into her, stretching and curling inside her.

 

“Ben,” she groaned, arching towards him, reveling in the feeling of being inside this body, a body that was long and lean and worked so wonderfully; the body that was feeling pleasured and energized by lust.

 

“Yes kitten?” he asked, bracing himself over her, head cocked.

 

“Now, Ben, _now,”_ she said, and sighed with approval when the blunt head of his cock nudged its way inside her.

 

“Oh, honey,” groaned Ben, burying his head into the crook of Rey’s shoulder, his body shuddering against hers. “You’re _perfect.”_

 

Ben’s hips began to roll against hers, slowly at first and then picking up speed, undulating against her like the pistons on a train, rolling down the track towards tomorrow.

 

Idly, as Rey’s hands found their way to Ben’s biceps and gripped there tightly, she realized that this did not hurt. Mrs. Mabel from the Methodist church had taken it on herself to explain the cycle of life to Rey, and she’d been quite emphatic about a girl’s first time hurting, that it was so bad some girls fainted.

 

“Fuck Mrs. Mabel,” said Rey, rolling her head back on the pillow, bringing her hips more sharply against Ben’s own. He seemed to slip inside another inch, turning her into his creature from the inside out.

 

“What?” asked Ben, biting her ear, his breath wet and hot.

 

“Nothing,” said Rey. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “More, please,” she said, and Ben choked on a laugh.

 

“Greedy kitten,” he said, biting a nipple. Rey gasped, and so he did it again, adding a little pain into the pleasure that was coursing through her veins.

 

Rey moaned when Ben shifted, working an arm all the way underneath her to hook his fingers over her shoulder on the opposite side. His other fingers slid down between her legs, playing with her clit again, and Rey bucked against him with a noise that was half scream, half laugh.

 

“I love you, sweetheart. C’mon, come for me babe.”

 

His fingers kept rubbing, his hips kept working into hers, and within minutes Rey was falling apart again, euphoria sucking her down deep.

 

At the last second Ben pulled out and came on Rey’s belly, sticky warmth spreading across her belly and breasts.

 

They sat there together, her sprawled and panting, him kneeling over her, cock in hand.

 

“Holy god,” Rey managed to say. She wanted to check and see if she was drooling, but didn’t think she had the energy to lift her arm.

 

Ben bent low and kissed her, lingering there, just rubbing his lips over hers. “Time for cleanup,” he said eventually, and laughed when Rey groaned.

 

“C’mon,” he said, scooping her up again. “I made a mess, I’ll clean it up.”

 

He cradled her to him like a long-limbed baby when he started the water in the shower, and then sat in the floor of the tiny space once it was flowing. Rey leaned against his chest, propped between his legs, and closed her eyes, trying to forever imprint on her brain the feeling of being gently and meticulously washed.

 

Every spring back in Oklahoma all the churches would turn out for a baptism day. Young kids and grizzled old men would line up along the river. The preacher would force them underwater, and when they resurfaced he would announce, “And so your are reborn in Christ and the church.”

 

That’s what this shower was to Rey: it was a baptism, a rebirth. She had been born again with Ben as her alpha and omega, her beginning and- inevitably- her end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update Spring 2019: oh my god I wrote this as a palate-cleanser joy story. I just wanted you to know that.
> 
> Quick notes:  
> Ben slightly misquotes Darwin, I edited it to sound a little more human and to more accurately fit the theme. All the other quotes are from John Milton's Paradise Lost. 
> 
> I'd really like to thank the best beta/friend a girl could ask for, [VioletWilson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwilson/pseuds/Violetwilson). She's the one who plot-screamed with me about this fic in the first place, and she has encouraged my writing in so many ways. 
> 
> If you'd like to hang out, I'm [lonelyspacebabies](https://lonelyspacebabies.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi! (Go say hi to [Violet](https://violetwilson.tumblr.com/) too.)


	2. The Gang

_“What hath night to do with sleep?”_

 

For a while Rey and Ben were content to drive, to see the country by day and enjoy each other by night. Ben had made good on his promise to feed Rey, and in the past weeks she’d tried more foods than she even knew existed. Once Ben had smeared honey over himself and Rey had spent a very enjoyable hour licking and sucking him clean, inch by sticky, muscled inch.

 

After every intimate encounter Ben would wipe or wash his come off of Rey, and somehow it had become the most intimate part of their relationship. It was one thing to lay naked with a man while lust had Rey’s brain scrambled into a mess of _need,_ but it was another to lay or stand quietly with a man, totally comfortable in her skin, totally vulnerable to his hands and mouth and eyes.

 

It didn’t take long for the euphoria of infatuation to fade. One morning, when Ben drove them into Northfield, a new town in southern Minnesota, he pulled over and parked along Main Street.

 

“It’s a good spot,” said Ben, slowly scanning the street. His voice was low, so Rey slid across the bench seat to lean against him, looking for all the world like a lovestruck young thing flirting with her man.

 

“Jail’s down the street, other end of town. Bank’s here in the middle, and it’s just a wide open road straight out of town.”

 

“Rey placed a hand on Ben’s thigh and leaned closed, her lips pulled into a simper. “You think we could hit the bank?” she asked.

 

“Police shifts usually switch at noon,” he said. The parked the car a few store-fronts down from the bank and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Not many people were around, and it was easy for them to find a position from which to scout.

 

They spent that first day at a diner across the street, laughing and eating pie and chatting with the waitresses. All the while they were watching the bank, seeing if the cops came by, watching to see when business slowed down.

 

Rey rose early the next morning, nervous and excited. She’d bought a little journal in a city somewhere along the line, the pages heavy and the leather binding soft. It was one of the most luxurious things she’d ever owned, and she’d taken to writing about her fears and loves, about the things she’d seen on the road.

 

That morning, before she robbed her first bank, she wrote about how Ben looked in sleep. He was so _vibrant_ when he was awake, he was always moving or laughing or plotting, emotions flickering across his face like sparks blown into the night. In sleep he looked so much younger, his limbs loose and lanky, his soft lips slightly parted. Eventually Ben woke, and then they dressed and packed in silence.

 

They walked into the bank as the clock chimed noon.

 

Ben went to the high desk in the middle, pretending to fill out a slip and count out cash. Rey got in line for the teller in a new dress and hat, an outfit that Ben had brought home for her last night. She hadn’t had the dress on for three minutes before he was taking it right back off again and tossing it on the hotel room floor.

 

“Hello, miss,” said the teller when she reached the high marble counter. “What can I do for you?”

 

Rey slipped her Smith & Wesson out of her pocket and pointed it at the clerk. “I’d like all the cash in your till, please,” she said, smiling sweetly.

 

The clerk’s eyes looked over her shoulder, and Rey knew that he was watching Ben- all six foot, three inches of Ben- standing by the door with his own pistol.

 

“You won’t get away with this,” he hissed, placing bundles of cash into the pillowcase Rey had passed to him.

 

“We have so far,” said Rey, and then she shot him.

 

He couldn’t be allowed to give their description to the police. She snatched the bag and ran back to Ben, who was waiting by the door.

 

“Let’s move,” he said, grabbing her hand and yanking her down the sidewalk. They sprinted to the car, cranked it over, and it was like their flight from Tulia all over again. This time, though, Rey knew exactly what they were doing, and this time she was in love, and this time it was _fun._

 

Ben laughed as they flew out into the plains, the road undulating over the hills, and Rey realized that she was laughing with him.

 

~~~

 

Ben and Rey ditched the car after the bank robbery in Minnesota. They caught a train south, and that’s how they met Poe Dameron. They’d rented their own train car on their trip to New Orleans, a plush thing set up like an Old New York drawing room. There was even a bar against one wall, the cut-glass decanters carefully set into indentations that held them in place.

 

Rey had just crawled into Ben’s lap, her knees bracketing his hips and her hands in his hair, when the door to their car opened.  Rey and Ben looked over, each already reaching for their gun.

 

“Sorry folks,” said the man in the doorway, his hands up in mock surrender. “Just got the wrong car. Y’all enjoy your day now.”

 

“Wait,” said Ben. Rey could see that he had a gun on his hip and a canteen over one shoulder. Ben was eyeing the stranger. “What’s your story, brother?”

 

The man took a couple steps into the train car and shut the door behind him. He was tall- not as tall as Ben, but he still had several inches on Rey, with curly dark hair, dark eyes, and the deep tan of a man who had spent his life in the sun. What Rey noticed, once she’d scanned the man for weapons, were the laugh lines around his eyes.

 

“Name’s Poe Dameron,” said the intruder, rocking back on his heels. “I’m just looking for my car and got all turned around.” He had a southern drawl, and he winked at Rey when he said this. Poe was wearing dark, well-worn trousers, scarlet suspenders, and a black fedora that had once been covered in glossy black silk.

 

“Have a seat, Poe,” said Ben, gesturing to the chair that had recently been Rey’s. Rey shifted in Ben’s lap so that she was draped sideways across his thighs. It wasn’t proper, not in the least, and the fact that Poe was only watching them with mild curiosity made Rey feel even more naughty and delicious. She kept one hand at the nape of Ben’s neck, her fingers twirling in the hair there, and that was enough to satisfy her, at least for now.

 

“We’re Ben and Rey,” said Ben once Poe had taken a seat. “Get yourself a drink, if you’d like.”

 

Poe rose and poured himself something brown and sharp-smelling.

 

“I don’t for a minute think you were looking for your car,” said Ben, and Rey saw Poe’s spine stiffen under the filthy, dust-stained linen of his shirt. “Seeing as I made it out of New Jersey by hoppin’ trains.”

 

Poe returned to his seat, drink in hand. “You hopped trains?” he asked, his dark eyes scanning the luxury of the train car and the new clothes on Rey and Ben.

 

“Walked out of Manhattan October 29th,” Ben confirmed. “Broker. I saw my buddy try to fly that day. He walked right off the roof of our building.”

 

Poe took a drink and shook his head. “My family worked a farm outside Atlanta. The land had been ours for generations, Damerons all the way back to the Great Flood. One autumn we just couldn’t sell a damn thing. Nobody was buying. We ended up leaving six hundred acres of cotton to rot in the fields.”

 

“We did the same thing,” said Rey, fascinated by the image of this clearly rich boy brought low by the same circumstances that had toppled Plutt. “We burned corn stalks and corn cobs to keep warm that winter.”

 

Poe nodded and toasted Rey with his glass. “Had to leave the family to work odd jobs. The bitch of it is that ain’t a goddamn person paying. It’s all I can do to get a hot meal.”

 

“I think we could find something for you to do,” said Ben, running a hand up and down Rey’s spine. “But it would require a man of some… discernment.”

 

Poe knocked back the last of his drink. “I can be discerning as hell, ‘specially if I end up living like you two.”

 

“How do you feel about bankers?” asked Ben, and Rey watched the smile spread over Poe’s face.

 

“I can take or leave those rat-faced bastards,” said Poe. “Dead or alive.”

 

“Welcome to the team,” said Ben, and then, while Poe watched, Ben bent Rey over the arm of their chair and kissed her.

 

~~~

 

Having Poe around changed things for better and worse. They couldn’t just wake up and go wherever they wanted, pulling off the highway to wade in a creek or have sex in the car. He was fun though, another laughing, reckless soul like Ben, and he made all the difference when they robbed their next bank.

 

When Rey and Ben robbed a bank she would walk to the teller, eyes downcast and lips gently, quietly pursed. The small-town teller would smile at her beatifically and ask what he could do for such a pretty little lady. Ben would block the door, and Rey would collect whatever cash was in the teller’s drawer, usually only a few hundred at a time.

 

With Poe- with a _third-_ the setup was entirely different.

 

Rey went in the Louisiana bank first, fussing with her pocketbook and scanning the great marble room; money’s altar. There was only one teller, just the way she liked it. A banker sat in an office off to the side, but Rey didn’t think he’d be a problem. Poe came in next, walking with that peculiar, rolling stride of a born-rich farmer. It was like he leaned back into his own spine, letting his hips do all the work. He took off his hat, playing the gentleman right down to the core.

 

Poe went to the teller when the bell over the front door announced Ben’s arrival. When Ben flipped the lock on the front door the click of the lock echoed like a gunshot. Rey wondered if the shot fired along the Old North Bridge had felt so significant.

 

“I’d be obliged if you could open up that drawer of yours,” said Poe, cocking his revolver at the teller.

 

When the cash box opened with a nearly inaudible _ding_ Poe smiled. “Thank you so much,” he drawled, and shot the banker between the eyes.

 

Rey’s Smith & Wesson was little. It made people bleed plenty, but it wasn’t this- this hand-canon. When Poe’s gun went off the room smelled of gunsmoke and the teller’s skull blasted over the wall behind him.

 

Rey only forgot what she was doing for a moment. The banker had come around his desk when Poe asked for the money, and Rey drew her gun on him. Ben joined her, one arm on her shoulder, tethering her to him, to her courage, to her hope.

 

“We’re gonna need you to open up that safe,” said Ben.

 

“No,” said the banker. He was trying to sound brave, but Rey could see the sweat beading on his forehead and cheeks. “You’ll just kill me anyway.”

 

“That may be true,” said Poe from behind the counter. “But there’s a world of difference between dying quick and dying slow.”

 

The banker flushed, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Oh, come on,” said Poe. He came out from around the counter, dropped a gunnysack of cash at his feet, and shot the banker in the foot.

 

The banker shrieked, a sound that wasn’t entirely human, pain and animal fear ripping along his vocal chords. “The key!,” he said, crying and choking. “The key is in my desk. The combination is 0508!”

 

“Thank you,” said Poe.

 

The vault had more money than Rey had ever seen. “How can we carry all this?” she asked, stuffing all the cash she could reach into the bad she’d brought in.

“We can’t,” said Ben. “And we need to be fast. Someone is going to notice the door is locked.”

 

Sure enough, as they jogged out of the vault with cash-fat bags they could hear banging on the front door of the bank.

 

Ben shot the banker as they ran by. By now Rey knew that this was that they had to do, the police couldn’t learn what they looked like or sounded like, but still- the causal violence gave her heart a pang.

 

“Back door’s back here,” called Poe, and they sprinted out and into the alley just as the police arrived up front.

 

“How much do you think we got?” asked Rey as Ben drove them out of town.

 

“More than any man could spend!” said Poe. The Louisiana robbery went off so easily that Rey wondered if Poe was some kind of living, breathing good-luck charm.  

 

He wasn’t: in Louisiana that things finally went sour.

 

After a couple weeks of shopping and traveling and robbing liquor stores and gas stations they robbed another bank. This time, though, they timed it wrong. A police officer was in the bank making a deposit, and he drew his gun on Ben and Poe.

 

Rey didn’t know what had happened- she was in the car like normal, waiting longer and longer, and getting more and more worried.

 

It seemed to take forever before Ben and Poe came running back, this time empty-handed. The jumped into their seats, Ben in the front and Poe in the back, and Rey didn’t have time to ask them anything.

 

“Drive,” Poe screamed. It didn’t quite sound human; the cry sounded more like a cougar than a man, that throaty, animal noise.

 

“What happened?” Rey screamed, yanking her hat off her head and shoving it under her thigh. She was driving fast, too fast, and she wanted to have both hands on the wheel. Something in the men’s urgency was freaking her out, and for once none of them were smiling.

 

“Cops!” shouted Ben, and that’s when Rey heard it: the low wail of a siren behind her. “Faster!” he yelled.

 

“Take a right at the next road,” said Poe. “I know a guy!”

 

Rey glanced at Ben, wondering what to do. She trusted Poe, and they didn’t have much choice, but still…

 

Ben nodded. “Take the turn at the last second!” he yelled back, and then he turned around, leaned out the window, and started firing at the cops behind them. The wind was plastering his shirt against him and Rey had to look away, she had to focus on the road, because it was all too easy for her to imagine a dark red stain spreading across Ben’s shirt. What if the police hit him? She could hear bullets pinging into the back of the car.

 

“It’s coming up!” yelled Poe, leaning over the backseat.

 

Rey could see the turn- it was slightly obscured by the rise of a hill and some low, half-dead scrub-brush. Ben leaned back into the car, dumping the spent rounds from his gun and hurriedly reloading.

 

“Hang on!” Rey yelled, and she yanked the wheel hard, just before the last second. She felt the car ride up on two wheels and in one of those odd, out-of-body moments Rey caught herself being surprised by the fact that she was going to die in a car crash and not in an inevitable-feeling rain of bullets.

 

The car righted itself. They tore off down the road, still going way too fast, and Poe cheered from the backseat. “They overshot!” he yelled. “Keep going! First farm on the left!”

 

It took forever for the farm to come into view. It was a small brown house (everything was brown, _everything)_ with a wraparound porch. A small barn was in the back, and Rey took the driveway and drove towards the barn without prompting. Poe stepped out when she slowed, and he wrenched the barn door open.

 

It was mostly empty inside the barn. Two horses stood in the closest stalls, a small, ancient-looking tractor was in the next, and the back of the barn was empty.

 

Rey stopped the car and got out, looking to Ben, praying that he had a plan.

 

He looked around, scanning the gardening tools hanging on the walls and the wide beams of the hayloft overhead.

 

“We have to cover the car,” he said, and was immediately moving to and up the ladder to the loft. “Poe, get up here. We’ll bury it in hay.”

 

Hay began to drift down in great lumps, and the barn door opened again. A man came through, hands raised. He was in a faded blue cotton shirt, suspenders, and washed-out pants. His skin was smooth and brown, and he was eyeing Rey nervously.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked, and clearly he was trying to keep his voice as non-threatening as possible.

 

“It’s me, Finn,” said Poe, peeking over the hayloft. “We’re running, and we need to hide this car from the police.”

 

“Got it,” said Finn, nodding. “You know where the storm cellar is when you’re done. Rosie and I’ll hold ‘em off as long as we can.”

 

“C’mon,” Ben grunted as Finn left. Rey saw a whole hay bale fly out of the loft, and the twine holding it together burst when it hit the car, a firework of summer-dried hay.

 

“Again!” said Ben. The car was buried now, and Rey was running around the edges of the pile fluffing it up, trying to make it look like there was supposed to be hay easily accessible to the horses.

 

“We need to go,” she said, and Poe and Ben rushed down the ladder.

 

“Follow me,” said Poe, and then they were running across the hard-packed yard towards the back door. Ben took Rey’s hand and tried to tow her along, but she shook him off, yelling _I can run by myself!_

 

Poe dove under the back porch and crawled along to a little wooden door located underneath the house itself. Rey was the first to crawl into the black space beyond, trying not to whimper at the thought of all the snakes and spiders that could be hiding in here with her. Ben and Poe soon followed. There was just enough space for Rey and Poe to sit up straight, legs crossed, but the ceiling was too low for Ben. He lay on his back with his knees bent and his head in Rey’s lap.

 

Within seconds they could hear the rumble of an engine coming down the driveway.

 

Rey imagined the police officers looking around, scanning the fields for the car or a suspiciously covered object.

 

When the officers stepped onto the front porch, the sound echoed through the hiding space beneath the house. In Rey’s mind the footsteps were hers, echoing on the stairs of the gallows.

 

“Did you see two men and a women drive by here?” asked the cop when Finn answered the door. Their voices were muffled but audible, like Rey was listening to them through water- or through six feet of dirt.

 

“Nope,” said Finn. “Been quiet around here today. Thought I saw I truck go by earlier this afternoon. What were they driving?”

 

“White Ford,” said one of the officers. “You mind if we have a look around?”

 

“Go ahead,” said Finn. “Just me and my lady.”

 

Rey listened to the footsteps move around overhead. The house was small, and within minutes the officers were stepping out onto the back porch.

 

“Gotta check the barn,” said one of them. The footsteps moved off, and Rey’s heartbeat only accelerated. If the officers found the car she and Ben and Poe wouldn’t have time to escape. They’d be trapped under here until they were found and killed.

 

Rey bent down to kiss Ben’s face. She’d been hoping to get his forehead, but instead she hit the side of his nose. That was okay, too. She just wanted him to know that she loved him, that she’d chosen him, that she had known this day would come.

 

Ben didn’t let her sit back up. His fingers fisted in her hair, his nails scraping over her scalp, and he held her to him, his lips leisurely working over hers like they were all alone and safe.

 

At some point- a lifetime later- the police came back towards the house.

 

“They have to be here,” said one, his voice low.

 

“There were a couple other turns, and for all we know they’ve hollowed out one of these hills like goddamn moles,” said the second cop. “We didn’t see the car, we didn’t see any sign of them inside.”

 

There were footsteps, and then the cops were back on the porch again.

 

“Thanks for letting us look around folks,” said the second cop. “Call in if your see them.”

 

“We told you they weren’t here!” said an aggravated female voice.

 

“Just due process ma’am,” said the first police officer.

 

The boots moved down the porch and towards the car which quickly turned on and drove away.

 

Rey started counting. She’d nearly reached six hundred when she heard Finn’s voice. He was standing on the porch just talking in a conversational tone. If anyone was watching it would have appeared that he was looking over his land, as relaxed as can be.

 

“There’s an interior entrance in the bedroom. You think you can figure out where it is?”

 

They did, following the sound of Finn’s boots on the floor and the pool of light that shone down into the crawl space when the trapdoor opened.

 

Rey is, again, the first one out. She is pulled up into a small bedroom by Finn, and she waited impatiently for Ben and Poe.

 

“Thanks, brother,” said Poe, and he and Finn embraced. “You saved our necks. They still hang people in Mississippi.”

 

Finn nodded. “Why do you think we’ve got the trapdoor? Slavery may not be legal, but lynching sure as hell is.”

 

A small, dark-haired woman moved to stand at Finn’s side. “It doesn’t help that I’m not black,” she said, taking Finn’s hand. “Our marriage isn’t even recognized by the state.”

 

There was a bleak pause, the room reflecting on the never-ceasing stream of horrors that was this life.

 

“You could come with us,” said Ben. His voice was low and strong, what Rey mentally called his preacher voice. He was hard to resist like this, so compelling and convinced of his own beliefs.

 

Rey wasn’t stupid, despite what people would think. She knew full well that what they were doing was wrong. She knew that this couldn’t end well, but- but Ben. But if this is how she could have him she’d take her end, however it came. She loved him. She loved him enough not to care.

 

“Come into the kitchen,” said Finn without replying to Ben.

 

Rose boiled water and they all sat down with coffee, the lights turned down low and the curtains closed.

 

“You a wanted man?” asked Finn, looking at Ben.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You robbin’ banks?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You a racist piece of shit that’s gonna let me take the fall when the time comes?”

 

 _“No,”_ said Ben, leaning across the table and looking Finn dead in the eye. “If the law catches up with me I’ll take what I’ve got coming. Sins of the father, right? My shit’s on me.”

 

Everyone sat quietly around the table, contemplating their futures. Contemplating their ends.

 

“I know this is wrong,” said Ben. “But it’s only wrong because other people say so. _I_ say that it’s wrong to keep food from the starving poor, it’s wrong to turn people away from breadlines and Hoovervilles. It’s wrong to make farmers burn food, it’s wrong to hoard money and comfort and health. _Fuck_ that system, man. Let’s make our own, for as long as we’re here.”

 

Up until now Rey had always let Ben make the romantic overtures in public. She could be demanding in the privacy of their own room, but some vestige of shame or propriety had still been clinging to her. Now, though, watching Ben make his speech, she couldn’t help herself. Rey leaned up, grabbed each side of Ben’s face, and kissed him. Poe laughed, Rose whooped, and Rey didn’t know or care what Finn did.

 

Ben was grinning when they broke apart. “I already knew your vote,” he said. “It’s them I’m trying to convince.”

 

“What do you get out of it?” asked Finn, leaning back in his chair and resting a hand on Rose’s back.

 

“A team,” said Ben simply. “We can take on bigger targets. We could give away some cash. It’ll be neater and safer.”

 

“You’re claiming to be some kind of… Robin Hood?” asked Rose, eyeing Ben.

 

“Hell no,” said Ben. “I want money. But if we have enough, there’s no reason we couldn’t spread it around.”

 

Finn nodded to himself.

 

“I want to talk about this with Rose,” he said. “We’ll give you our answer in the morning.”

 

Rey, Ben, and Poe slept in the barn. There was enough loose hay around to make a comfortable bed, and Ben dug through the hay to get their belongings out of the car. Rey and Ben slept curled together like kittens, and when Rey woke it was the same way she always did: with wonder and thanks, happy to be the woman next to Ben.

 

Rose came to get them before the sun had fully risen. “There’s coffee inside,” she said, and then turned and went back to the house.

 

In silence Rey, Poe, and Ben walked across the weakly-lit yard. Rey tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter if Finn and Rose joined. She and Ben had done fine on their own, and Poe was with them now. _But Finn and Rose could turn you in,_ a little voice in her head whispered. _They got a real good look at you._

 

She ignored the voice. Once more everyone sat down around the scarred, slab-oak table with coffee.

 

“We’re in,” said Finn, and Poe whooped. “The bank’s gonna take the farm anyway, so we might as well come with you.”

 

“Glad to have you,” said Ben, sticking out his hand for Finn to shake.

 

“So where do we go from here?” said Finn. “I think we need a plan before we just cut and run.”

 

“I agree,” said Ben. “We’re going to need a new car, and we can’t take yours. It would be traced right back to you.”

 

“I had an idea,” said Rose. “But it’s… dangerous.”

 

“The world’s dangerous,” said Ben, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“There’s an armory two towns over,” said Rose, fiddling with her tin mug. “It’s where the army keeps its guns and supplies and things. Nobody lives there, it’s just a storage building. If we could get the guns… I don’t know, and maybe there’s more stuff. It’s stupid,” she said, trailing off.

 

“It’s not stupid,” said Ben, his eyes steady on Rose’s face. Rey loved Ben even more in that moment. He saw people for what they were, and he empathized with them. “It’s brilliant. We need firepower. But first, we need a car.”

 

Ben looked at Finn. “You know how to hotwire a Ford?” he asked.

 

“I can learn,” said Finn.

 

It turned out Finn was terrible at fiddling with the wiring in a car. He panicked and connected the wrong thing or yanked so hard on a wire that he dislodged it from its mooring and disabled the whole vehicle. He sweated too, big drops of saltwater hitting the floorboards while he crouched by the dash.

 

“Alright. You’re not going to be our car guy,” said Ben after nearly two hours of encouragement. “But that’s fine.”

 

“Can I try?” asked Rose, stepping forward. She’d been sitting in the backseat of Ben’s car, on which they’d been practicing.

 

“Sure,” said Ben, surprised.

 

Rose took Finn’s place and in a moment the engine whirred to life.

 

“Do it again,” said Ben. He reconnected all the lines and sealed the dash.

 

Within moments Rose had done it again, the car putty beneath her hands.

 

“You’ve got magic fingers, doll,” he said, and Rose laughed.

 

Rey wrapped her arms around Ben’s waist from behind. “You’re the one who talks about people underestimating women. You’re falling for you own tricks.”

 

Ben stuck a palm out towards Rose, who blushed a little but shook it. “Won’t happen again,” he said.

 

~~~

 

They walked about six miles the next night and took a car out of the driveway of a sleeping house. The five of them pushed the car down the drive and into the street before turning it on. From there it was a quick ride down to Starkville. Only a few people were awake when the rode through in their stolen car, and they found the armory just before seven.

 

They pulled to the side of the road and idled. Rose held a map, and it was amazing how that one accessory changed the appearance of the whole group. A car idling on the side of the road was suspicious. A car with young friends and lovers looking for directions? Not a problem at all. People only saw what they expected to see.

 

“We’ll need bolt cutters,” muttered Ben. “Heavy fence around.”

 

“I can’t get a good look at the locks, but it doesn’t look like anything special,” said Poe. It turned out he was a skilled lockpick and had already committed a dozen high-stakes robberies before meeting up with Ben and Rey. Ben took it as a sign of Fate: god had handed him the perfect team, and this was his destiny.

 

“Don’t think we can get the car in there, so we’d better be ready to run,” said Ben.

 

He put the car in gear and drove off, not wanting to ogle the building for too long.

 

They checked into a motel down the road. Once bags were dropped off everyone reconvened in Ben and Rey’s room.

 

“We need bolt cutters,” Ben repeated. “But we can’t go buy them from the general store; someone would be bound to remember that. One of us needs to pinch some out of a shed or garage.” Everyone nodded.

 

“Poe, you need to be the first through the fence,” Ben continued. “You have to get the door open. Rose, you’ll be in the car. Rey, you’ll be at the fence, you’ll have to hold the wire back when we come out with the guns.”

 

Rose nodded, and Ben added, “We’ll need some gloves with the bolt cutters.”

 

Poe and Finn took the car to pick up food and to ...acquire a pair of bolt cutters. Rose retreated to her room, and Ben and Rey crawled onto their bed. They would eat together, and then the plan was to rest before their night-time activities.

 

“I like Rose,” said Rey. Ben rolled onto his back and arranged Rey against him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. “She’s smart, and she’s loyal.”

 

“I like her too,” said Ben.

 

They were quiet for a minute, and Rey wondered what Ben was thinking. _She_ was thinking that she almost liked Rose and Finn and Poe enough not to work with them. If the other three stayed with Rey and Ben they were damned by proximity.

 

“Ben- I…” she began, but trailed off.  Before she could organize her thoughts Poe was knocking on the door.

 

He had roast chickens and sweet corn from a boarding house down the street. They sat together and ate, laughing and talking and refusing to think of the danger that could come.   _Was the Last Supper like this?_ Rey wondered. _Did they all refuse to think of the pain and betrayals they had coming to them?_

 

Once everyone had left Rey and Ben returned to the bed. They were too anxious to do anything other than cling to each other,  and eventually Rey fell asleep, twitching her way through dreams that were filled with gunsmoke and the metallic tang of blood.

 

Ben woke her with a kiss. “It’s time,” he said, and Rey pulled herself up. They packed their bags again- either way they wouldn’t come back here- and Rey carefully laced on her boots.

 

It was a quiet drive to the armory. When Rey thought back on that night, the first night that she really _felt_ like a criminal, what she remembered were the sounds.

 

The tires of their cars crunched slowly over the gritty roads of the little sleeping town. A dog barked as they walked by, the low _woof_ of an unalarmed pet. The bolt cutters quickly _snick snick snicked_ through the fence, and Ben, Finn, and Poe’s clothes rustles as they slipped through the opening. They were just shadows in the night, the half-moon obscured by thin, gossamer clouds.

 

Time passed. A gentle breeze kissed over Rey’s cheek, and she began to count to herself. Five hundred. Seven hundred. Too many.

 

Rey slipped off her gloves, tucked them into the waistband of her skirt, and slipped across the yard. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, not here. She was a creature of the dark, used to crossing Plutt’s yard from the barn to the privy to the icehouse and back again.

 

The door was propped open, a boot (it looked like Poe’s) neatly jamming the door. Once inside Rey could hear the scuffle of movement and the quiet murmur of men’s voices. “Ben?” she whispered, creeping towards the sounds. “Ben?”

 

“Rey?” he said, and then a flickering flash-light was pointing towards Rey. “What are you doing here? Are we made?”

 

His hand was wrapped around hers, and his grip tightened painfully when he asked if they’d been caught.

 

“No,” said Rey. “You were taking too long.”

 

“Too many to choose from,” said Ben by way of an explanation. He aimed the weak yellow beam of light over the walls, and Rey gaped. There were guns _everywhere._ Long automatic rifles, handguns, clips, shelves of ammunition and boxes of supplies.

 

“Take it all,” Rey whispered.

 

“You heard the lady,” said Ben, wrapping his arms around Rey and not looking away from her face. “Get the guns out of here. Take the ammo, too. Pack it, and Finn, start the car. Poe, you watch the door and wait for me.”

 

“You got it,” said Poe, snapping to action. Tarps were filled with guns and dragged to the door. Crates were toted out, and then it was only Rey and Ben and the ammo they didn’t need or couldn’t fit in the car.

 

“We should go,” whispered Rey. Ben had slowly backed her against the back wall where a shelf dug into the small of her back. With every step his long legs had moved between her own, and Rey thought that if she didn’t leave now she wouldn’t be leaving until the ache between her legs was satisfied.

 

“We did it,” said Ben, planting his palms on the wall on either side of Rey’s head. “We’ve taken the tiger’s teeth, kitten. Snatched this fire from goddamn Uncle Sam himself.”

 

“Just imagine,” said Rey, licking Ben’s jaw. “Imagine them coming in tomorrow morning, seeing their empty room… like the rifles evaporated overnight.”

 

“We’re going places, babe,” said Ben, taking Rey’s mouth.

 

They didn’t talk much after that.

 

Rey knew Poe was just outside, and somehow that _added_ to the illicitness of this. The armory smelled like dust and spilled gunpowder, like the reception room for hell. Rey stood on her tiptoes, pulling down on Ben’s shoulders, enjoying long, wet kisses in the dark.

 

“I can’t wait, kitten,” rasped Ben, palming one breast through Rey’s shirt. At Ben’s insistence she’d stopped binding her breasts and he’d brought her a silky new brassier, a thin, lightweight garment that Rey loved feeling against her skin.

 

“I need you too,” said Rey, wrapping one leg around Ben’s hip. “Right now, right here.  Fuck Uncle Sam, fuck _me.”_

 

Ben did. Rey gasped when he picked her up and plunked her down on the shelf behind her. He was between her knees, forcing them apart immediately, the bulk of him pressed against the inside of her thighs.

 

“Such a pretty girl,” he whispered into the soft skin behind her ear. “So soft, so smart. My girl.”

 

Rey hadn’t worn her trousers today. A woman in pants was far more memorable than a girl in her skirts. She was thankful for her skirt now, because Ben was able to shove it up around her waist and pull her panties down her thighs and off.

 

Ben grinned and shoved her underpants in his pocket. “These are mine now,” he said, sliding his fingers into her cunny. “And this is mine. _You_ are mine,” he whispered before biting her neck. Rey knew she’d have a bruise, and she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all.

 

“You’re wet, kitten,” said Ben, one hand diddling between Rey’s legs and the other loosening the fly of his dark trousers. “All this for me?”

 

“Hell yes,” said Rey, both to the question and the sight of Ben’s cock. “Yes, yes, yes.”

 

He was inside her in one strong thrust, and Rey groaned at that initial feeling of fullness. She was never really aware of being empty, no matter how badly she wanted Ben, but as soon as he was inside her she could revel in that feeling of connection.

 

This wasn’t gentle. It didn’t have finesse. It was thrusting hips and the wet suck of flesh on flesh and Ben’s fingers pinching and tugging at Rey’s clit, driving her hard towards orgasm. She bit him when she came, her teeth in his shoulder and her eyes squinched shut.

 

Ben pulled out while she was still shuddering and gasping. He yanked a handkerchief out of his back pocket, wrapped it around his cock, and came in two hard strokes.

 

“They’re waiting for us,” said Rey, still on the shelf with her pussy on display for Ben to see.

 

“I know,” he said, and lifted her down.

 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her softly before taking her hand and tugging her down the hall.

 

“I love you too,” said Rey.

 

Poe winked at Rey as she and Ben ran by him. They clambered into the car and waited for Poe, the rumbling engine the only sound in the night.

 

A few long minutes later he jumped into the backseat.

 

“What took you so long?” Rose hissed as Ben pulled away from the curb.

 

“I was locking up behind us,” said Poe, his voice smug.  “Can’t y’all imagine how they’ll feel about guns disappearing from a locked building?”

 

There was a moment of stunned disbelief and then all of them were laughing, the sound free and joyous and fleeting. They drove off, not worried about the direction, just enjoying being free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!! Thank you so much for all the support on the last chapter. I'm having so much fun writing this story, and I'm SO thankful that you guys are enjoying reading it. Each comment is just UGH. So motivating. I have sort of a plan for this story now, which is exciting! I still think it's going to be a mini-fic, but not quite AS mini. Hooray! 
> 
> LOOK HERE: [Violet made me a cover](https://violetwilson.tumblr.com/post/175022289852/my-dear-friend-lonelyspacebabies-wrote-a-smutty) for this story! Go look at it and please tell her how beautiful it is.
> 
> As always you can find me at [lonelyspacebabies](https://lonelyspacebabies.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you'd like to come by and say hi or talk about writing!


	3. The Clink

_ The courage never to submit or yield _

 

The money from the Mississippi bank was more than enough to keep them in comfort for a while. They gang meandered north, robbing a couple gas stations and dry grocers along the way, just keeping their hand in, practicing their trade like a musician practices his art. 

 

They rented a house in Ohio, a big one, a house dripping with crystal chandeliers and covered in satins and silks. There was even a big fur hanging on the wall in one of the bedrooms, and Ben yanked it off onto the floor, lay Rey on it, and took here there on the floor in front of a roaring, flickering fire. 

 

_ Here’s heaven,  _ Rey thought, digging her nails into his back.  _ Here’s heaven, so close to hell.  _

 

The house grew boring after a week or so-  _ what was luxury for? What did rich people do all day? _ they wondered.  

 

“That’s why housewives crack up,” said Poe as they packed the cars. They had two now, and Rose usually drove the second one with Finn riding shotgun. Poe split his time between the two vehicles, not seeming bothered by his single status. 

 

“All these women with brains, with thoughts in their head, reduced to pretty little ornaments that might as well be left on the shelf with a man’s other trinkets.” He tapped Rey’s temple as he said this and she pushed his hand away. 

 

“You telling me all housewives are crazy?” asked Rey, squinting at him. 

 

“No ma’am,” drawled Poe. “But those who are, I’m saying we made ‘em that way.”

 

“That’s right you did,” said Rey, poking him the chest, a smile on her face. “And don’t you forget it.” 

 

From Ohio they drifted again, west to Illinois and south to Missouri. Rey could recognize the signs now, could read the symptoms of Ben’s boredom and ennui returning. He was easily distracted, overly introspective, spending too much time laying in his bed or on the back porch of wherever they stayed. He was less affectionate-  _ never you, kitten, my fault- mea culpa, honey, mea culpa-  _ usually coming to bed long after Rey had fallen asleep. 

 

Rey could tell he was trying. On the east side of Columbia he stopped at a hoover town, got out a bag of their cash, and walked among the hovels, tents, and lean-tos, handing a few bills to anyone he saw, adults and children alike. He listened to men talk about losing their jobs, losing their sense of self. He listened to the women with bruises, told them that a man’s disillusionment wasn’t an excuse for brutality. When they asked, he defined the word. 

 

He played catch with the children, petted the scruffy, skinny dogs presented to him, and slept like the dead for nearly twelve hours after they left the shantytown. 

 

It was outside St. Louis that he finally sat the gang down to plan another heist. 

 

“We’re running short on funds,” he said. 

 

Everyone nodded, nobody mentioning the money he’d given away, no one resenting it. 

 

“We should cool off on the banks,” Ben continued. “We don’t want to be too predictable, to make people prepare, to let the feds type us.”

 

“Speakeasies only work in cash,” said Poe. “And they make a hell of a lot.”

 

“I know,” said Ben. “But what they do is illegal, too, and I know they’ve planned for raids, for robbers. They won’t cower and gibber like the bank goons.”

 

“Hotel,” said Finn. “Only folks who can afford it now are flash bastards, and isn’t that who we’re after?”

 

“A hotel could work,” said Ben thoughtfully. “They’re open late, after everything but the bars have closed. It’d be dark, which helps.”

 

“They have safes,” said Rose. “Or most do.”

 

“If we’re quiet enough we can get the numbers from the clerk,” said Finn.

 

“Brother, torture’s never quiet,” said Poe. 

 

Rey didn’t like the word  _ torture.  _ “When we rob gas stations we only worry about the cashbox,” she said. “Couldn’t we do that at a hotel or boarding house?”

 

“We can if we have to,” said Ben. “But the safe is worth more.”

 

They spent the first day scouting. Finn and Rose headed across the street to a baker’s shop and chatted him up, learning all about the town, the scourge of local Hoovervilles, the patterns and opening times of the businesses around. 

 

Poe hung out inside the hotel’s dining room, counting staff, flirting with women, and generally scoping out the joint. 

 

Ben and Rey stayed in the largest room of the boarding house cattycorner to the hotel, watching the hotel doors from their window. 

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Rey. Ben was in the little window seat, his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him on the narrow cushioned ledge. Rey was in his lap, an arm around his neck, her fingers twirling in his hair. 

 

“Want us to stop? Pull out?” asked Ben, his hand still sliding gently up and down her spine. 

 

“No,’ said Rey. When she’d begun this- when she’d gotten back into Plutt’s old car, agreed to drive off with Ben to wherever he was going- she’d told herself she was going to trust him.

 

She would- she would trust him. If he was going to rob that hotel he could rob that hotel, she’d support him, but she wasn’t so moon-brained that she wouldn’t voice her concern. “I think it’ll take too long,” said Rey. “And there are so many doors, so many people, so many things that can go wrong.”

 

“I know baby,” said Ben, dipping his head to press a soft, wet kiss to the side of her neck. “But we’ll be okay. Two by two, kitten. You and me, come what may.” 

 

Rose and Finn returned with supper, bringing with them a couple meat pies for Ben and Rey. They didn’t ask what the meat was. The pies were hot and fresh, the gravy inside was salty and peppery, and nothing about the meat seemed particularly amiss. Since Rey had spent more than a little time contemplating eating rat, this was more than fine with her. 

 

“The dining room closes for good at 11,” said Rose, taking a little linen covered chair. Rey and Ben were still on the window seat, glancing out every so often to see who was coming and going on the street. It was amazing, now, how far Rey had come from worrying about manners, about civility, about right and wrong and judgement and propriety. 

 

She sat in Ben’s lap more than in a chair of her own, and the gang just accepted it, rolled with it. She’d had sex with Ben- echoing, adrenaline-fueled sex- within pretty damn clear earshot of Poe, who’d winked at her. 

 

Happy, Rey snuggled closer into Ben’s chest. He gave her hair a tug-  _ Behave-  _ and continued to listen to Rose. 

 

“I’d give the cook and the waitresses a good hour or so to clear up and wipe everything down. The place is locked up after that, if someone wants in they have to ring the bell that goes to the front desk.” 

 

“Could work,” said Ben. “Poe’s registered, so even if we miss that curfew he could let us in. We go over just after midnight, get into the building one way or the other, and then get the safe’s information from the clerk. Job done, we get in the car and head out of town.”

 

“I moved the car,” said Finn. “It’s parked in an alley behind the hotel, near a ready-made clothes shop.”

 

“Good,” said Ben. “We’re all good. Rose, you want to be in the car on this one?”

 

She brightened. “Sure,” she said. 

 

Rey’s feelings of  _ wrong, bad, get out now  _ only intensified as time wore on. At a quarter to twelve they packed their toiletry bag, passed it to Rose, and sent her to the car. At 12:02 the two dining room waitresses went out the delivery door on the side of the building. A man- short, slim, thinning hair- went to the hotel’s front door and locked it.

 

Casually, acting like they owned the world, Finn, Ben, and Rey slipped down the maid’s staircase in the boarding house and walked across the road to the hotel. 

 

They knocked, Ben at the front of the little group. 

 

They waited on the porch for another few seconds, each one seeming longer than the last, and then the door opened and there was Poe. 

 

“Come on in,” he said. “Seeing as I’ve already done the hard work for you.”

 

They slipped inside and Poe locked the door back after them. “C’mon,” he said, walking around behind the tall, glossy wood counter. “Got him back here.”

 

The clerk was unconscious and tied to a chair in a giant coat closet that was back behind the counter. Pretty things lined the walls, each with a name tag attached with a little piece of string. Men’s jackets, ladies coats, even a fur and a fancy wrap had been carefully hung in here.

 

A safe was built into the back wall of the closet. Convenient, that. 

 

“How are we supposed to question a man who’s out cold?” asked Rey. 

 

Poe solved the problem by getting a pitcher of water off the front desk and pouring it over the man’s head. 

 

He spluttered awake, blinking and squinting at the strangers huddled with him in a closet. 

 

“Wha-”

 

Ben squatted down in front of the man, putting them just about at eye level. “Now you listen here,” he said. “We aren’t interested in hurting you, but we need the code to the safe. So all you do, see, is give it to us, and we go on about our day.”

 

“No,” said the clerk, his expression mulish. 

 

“Well, I’m a paying customer,” said Poe. “And y’all have my grandaddy’s pocket watch locked in that safe. You put it in there for me.”

 

“You stopped being a paying customer when you committed conspiracy to rob us!” hissed the little man. 

 

“Now, Mason, you know that ain’t right,” said Poe. He reached inside his waistcoat- a new one, the greasy silk long gone- and pulled out a folding knife. 

 

When he flicked the knife open, the clerk’s eyes followed its movements, the color draining from his face. 

 

Ben, Finn, and Rey backed up, giving Poe and his blade some space. Rey liked Poe, she really did. He was clever and charming, smarter than he let on, and Rey was willing to admit that the man’s soft Georgia drawl did a good bit of his charming for him. 

 

But… but she’d seen him like this before, on jobs. He got all like a snake- those cold, unblinking eyes, the coiled energy, the hypnotic rhythm of his voice. It was  _ other  _ the way snakes were, that hint of the eerie, the touched-by-strange. 

 

Rey wondered what had happened to him, wondered what had sent Poe into the dark without a good way out. 

 

He was running the flat of the blade along the clerk’s knuckles now. “It sure would be a waste to cut on these fingers,” he was saying. “I saw you putting my name in the ledger. You’ve got mighty fine handwriting.”

 

The clerk was sweating now, little drops of panicked perspiration tracing their way down his face like rain on a window. 

 

“Policy,” he whispered. 

 

Poe sat back on his haunches, his head cocked sideways. Hungry dogs looked like that sometimes, when they were trying to remember if you were a friend or food. “Now, see I don’t think policy matters much these days. ‘Bout as useful and fair as tits on a frog. The country was supposed to have a policy about finding happiness, about there being a fair chance for each man, but instead we’ve got a bloated old toad in office who don’t want to help out the rest of us at all. We’re burning food while others are starving, and apparently that’s policy too, somehow.”

 

Poe turned the blade, doodled the thinnest of red lines along the the clerk’s knuckles. The cut was so fine that only three little drops of blood beaded along it. “Wouldn’t talk to me about policy.” 

 

“11 03 17,” whispered the clerk, his face so pale that Rey thought he would faint. 

 

Poe used the man’s knee to push the blade back into the knife’s handle. “Mighty obliged,” he said, drawing out the syllables in a mocking drawl, a caricature of courtly manners. 

 

Ben was already at the safe spinning in the code. It opened first try- the hinges must be well-oiled, and it must have gotten a lot of use- and soon Ben and Finn were filling the cotton sacks they’d brought to carry the loot. 

 

Ben passed the first full bag to Rey. “Hold this, okay?” he said. 

 

The safe was almost empty when they heard the first kock on the front door. 

 

“Police,” said a voice. “Open up.”

 

The gang looked at each other. “C’mon,” said Finn, backing towards the door. “Side door, we need to go  _ now.”  _

 

“Almost done,” said Poe.

 

“We need to go  _ now,”  _ said Finn again. 

 

“C’mon, Mason,” the cop yelled. “I know you’re in there counting out the cash, open up.”

 

“Routine drop-by,” said Rey. “We should have watched, we should have waited.”

 

Ben stood. “No way out but through,” he whispered.  

 

They left the safe open and ran down the hall towards the dining room, everyone following Poe. As they ran they heard Mason start shrieking followed the first crash against the door. 

 

_ Runrunrun,  _ Rey was thinking. It had become the purpose of her being: inhale, sprint, exhale, sprint, inhale… 

 

Cops were just starting to turn into the side alley when the gang burst out the kitchen door.

 

“Move,” screamed Ben, and everyone took off, Rey still stuck at the back. She was with the men, though, still hanging on even though they were all taller with much longer legs. Her side began to burn, her lungs to scream, but she was moving, she was almost there-

 

A door opened, catching Rey right in the face, and a matronly middle-aged women stuck her head out. “What’s going on here?” she asked, then looked at Ben, and Rey, and the chasing policemen. 

 

Rey sprang up, leaving her bag of loot down, but the woman snagged Rey by the hair. “Go,” Rey shrieked at Ben, who’d glanced back at the commotion. The cops were coming, they couldn’t get him, Ben couldn’t live in a prison, he’d die like the lion in the zoo, too proud and wild for captivity. 

 

“GO!” she shrieked again, putting all her desperation into it. 

 

The cops came. Ben went. 

 

“I caught her running,” said the woman, triumphant, only tightening her grip on Rey’s hair. Rey let herself zone out after that. 

 

She was put in handcuffs and then into a police car. She was taken to the jail where a different policeman sat her down and questioned her, taking notes the whole time. 

 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

 

“Bonnie,” said Rey automatically. They’d practiced this, all of them. They had aliases they used, that they could call each other while on jobs, names that wouldn’t trace back to them. 

 

At least not directly. 

 

“Bonnie,” said the policeman. “I’m Sergeant Finch. “You got a last name?” 

 

“Cassidy,” she said. Ben’s alias was Clyde Cassidy. Their other selves were husband and wife. She thought of Ben as her husband. She’d picked him, picked him in a way that nature understood even if the law didn’t. This kind of love, this kind of need, it didn’t need a church to approve it. It just  _ was,  _ an elemental thing, it  _ was  _ in the way of wind and water and sun. 

 

“Alright Ms. Cassidy,” said the sergeant. “We’re gonna take your picture now, then we’ll get the rest of the paperwork tidied right up.”

 

It wasn’t tidy. They spent hours asking her to flip on the others she’d been with, to snitch, but she wouldn’t. They asked her about her past crimes, if the tall, dark-haired men she’d been with were the same men that had hit banks and gas stations and little shops in other parts of the midwest. 

 

Rey didn’t respond to that either, just sat in silence and let her mind go blank. 

 

They didn’t give up on interrogating her until the sun was up. Once they gave up she was taken over to the judge’s house, where the man was still in his shirtsleeves and sat drinking a cup of coffee. He spluttered at the interruption of his morning routine, but listened at the officers explained the circumstances of Rey’s (“Bonnie’s”) arrest. 

 

“You have anything to say for yourself young lady?” the judge asked. 

 

Rey shook her head. 

 

“Two years work camp, no parole,” said the judge, gently blotting the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. 

 

The prison (big house, slammer, hoosegow) was a squat, brown building surrounded by barbed wire fences outside Branson, just north of the Arkansas border. It had been a long drive, nearly a day, and Rey felt despair building up inside her with every hour, with every mile. 

 

How would Ben find her here? He said he always would, that he’d come for her no matter what, and she believed him. It was amazing, an unexpected gift- to believe someone so strongly, to know in your  _ bones  _ that they were as wrapped up in you as you were in them. 

 

But… how would he find her?

 

Rey was still muzzy-headed and mournful when she was taken inside the prison, shown into a room, and locked inside. 

 

“Dinner’s at six, we leave for work at dawn,” said the prison matron. The guards were men, men with cold, leering and eyes and fingers that twitched to touch, but the matron was a women. It made the conservative in congress feel better. 

 

The matron left, the guards retreated, and Rey was left with the shapeless grey dress they’d given her, a kerchief, her bobby pins, and her journal. Her journal had been in the pocket of her dress, and after the guards had carefully flipped through it, she’d been allowed to keep it. It made her feel better, feeling the weight of the little book in her new apron pocket. It was a little piece of the free, happy person she’d been. 

 

Rey’s roommate had been sitting in the shadows of the bottom bunk. Now, she stood and looked Rey over. “I’m Gin,” she said. 

 

Rey blinked. Her new roommate had eyes and hair several shades darker than Rey’s hazel and soft brown, had a British accent, and was apparently names after juniper moonshine. 

 

“Hi, uh, Gin,” she said. “I’m Bonnie.” She tried a smile, found it stiff. “Your name is really unique,” she added.

 

Gin smiled, a grin that showed her dimples. “True, but at least it’s spelled it J-Y-N,” she said. 

 

Rey grinned, and this smile felt natural. “That is better than I assumed,” she admitted. 

 

Jyn sat on the bottom bunk and patted the space next to her. “Have a seat.”

 

Rey sat, still clutching her blanket, kerchief, and journal to her chest. 

 

“So, what’s your story?” asked Jyn, leaning back against the wall. “I grew up in Liverpool, but I’ve been here since I was 12. Dad was some kind of trans-Atlantic businessman, he was researching something for the government. He’s gone, now,” she said sadly. “I was a secretary for one of the Missouri Congressmen. Got caught trying to get information, and here I am.”

 

Rey nodded. Jyn was, basically, a spy. She made Rey feel small and slow, uneducated and boring next to the snap of wit and personality that was Jyn. She packed as much punch as a shot of her alcoholic namesake.

 

“I grew up on a farm,” said Rey. “Ran off after the crash, hooked up with my man and his gang. I got caught supposedly hitting a hotel.” Rey wasn’t going to admit her guilt out loud  _ ever.  _ Not only did it seem like a bad idea with the law and all, but it also made her wrong-doing  _ real  _ in a way that just committing it did not. It was like how men fibbed about their jobs-  _ working as a field hand now, but I’m really a mechanic waiting for an opportunity. I’m really a writer, a boat captain, a businessman.  _

 

_ I’m a criminal, but I’m really just a girl in love with her man _ . 

 

Jyn nodded. “Sounds about right. What’d you get?”

 

“Two years.”

 

Jyn patted Rey’s knee. “Don’t worry, Bonnie. You’ll fall into routine real quick.”

 

She did, and it wasn’t all bad. The routine let her unfocus her mind, it let her body function on muscle memory while her mind went to the cool, quiet grey place she’d used with Plutt for years. Nothing happened in that grey place, nothing could reach her there. It was like that spot in the ocean under the waves that was always still, that not even the biggest storm could reach. Just cool and calm and aimless, drifting into perpetuity. 

 

There was only one thing that could consistently pull Rey out of her grey place, and that was a guard named Marcus. 

 

Every evening, after work detail was over and another mile of farmland had been hoed or another chunk of ditch had been dug, the women were patted down before they went back inside to wash up before mess. 

 

Marcus wasn’t one of the guards that went out on work detail. He stayed behind to guard the handful of women too sick or fragile to go out, and then he welcomed home those who returned with those grasping, pinching hands. 

 

The women would line up, one by one, sweaty and dirty and aching from their day, and one by one Marcus would slide his hands down over their breasts, around their waists, and up their legs beneath their skirts. With most women Marcus went through his routine with a look of almost boredom, but with a few of the women- the louder ones, the younger ones, the angrier ones- he’d linger. 

 

Rey was one of those girls. 

 

Every night he’d stay too long on her breasts and thighs, whispering anything and everything into her ear, trying to get a rise out of her. “ _ Want me to come to your bunk tonight, Bonnie girl? Wish we could finish up here? I bet you miss the touch of a man, a real man.”  _

 

Two weeks into her stay at the prison he finally got a response. “You’ll regret this,” she said quietly, almost sweetly. “My man’s gonna come for me.”

 

“You threatening me, girl?” asked Marcus, his mouth a death-mask’s grin. His eyes were glittery, green and evil. 

 

“No,” said Rey. “Just warning you.”

 

She was left in her cell that night when the others went to mess. She’d already dropped the pounds she’d gained with Ben, but that was okay. She was used to food being given and food being taken away. It was kind of nice in the jail cell alone, quiet- finally, mercifully quiet. She never had time alone anymore, not ever, and so she took this brief respite to pull out her journal. 

 

Her story had been in the papers over the last week, and most of what the paper had written was wrong. It bothered her, not because of the facts, but because, well. She knew that when she died, it was going to be the papers who wrote down what happened. Nobody would ever hear her side of the story. 

 

Slowly, occasionally gnawing the end of the pencil, Rey began to write. 

 

We know Adam and Eve and the Garden

And the tale of the serpent within

And those who believe 

Blame it on Eve

Not the lying tongue of a man

 

I know this run’s gonna all end in blood

It’ll be told by reporters and cops

But before I go 

I want you to know 

The truth, before my time stops

 

I met my man in a dust-covered town

I knew he was bad from the start

But he smiled at me

Made me feel free

And right there he claimed my heart

 

I went with him then

Across the dust-covered land

Wearing my heart on my sleeve, 

Life had been hard

My soul had been scarred

But this man I’d never leave

 

I know that there can’t be children

Not with this life we lead

But I’ve got friends

‘Til this all ends 

And that’s really all that I need

 

The papers are calling us killers

Which seems a grand ol’ claim

Cause famine and drought

And no bail out

Is where I place the blame

 

I’ll tell you ‘bout my man now, 

He’s generous, brave, and true

Targets only the rich

Isn’t a snitch

In a pinch he always comes through

 

I love that man to distraction

I’ll take it as long as it lasts

When it’s our turn

In hell we’ll burn

I pray it’s all over fast

 

The end ain’t gonna come easy,

The law-men will do all they can

But I look ahead

Fight ‘til I’m dead

For the love of my good hearted man.

 

_ Maybe someone would see it, _ she thought.  _ Maybe, one day, she’d be seen as more than a dumb criminal.  _ As everyone trooped back in from dinner Rey put away her journal, prepped for bed, and thought about Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages since I updated this, and I'm sorry! While I was gone I moved to a new town and finished my actual novel, so yippee! I definitely do intend to keep working on this, but I'm not holding myself to a schedule. 
> 
> Bonnie Parker really did write a poem about herself and Clyde. I lifted her structure, and the real poem is definitely worth a [read.](https://www.thoughtco.com/bonnie-parker-poem-bonnie-and-clyde-1779293)
> 
> Just for my own peace of mind I want to say that I'm still not totally satisfied with this chapter, but I'm *not obsessing about it* very deliberately, so here you are!


	4. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do want to say that I *know* this isn’t a healthy relationship dynamic. I know it! But… I think it’s hot. I think it’s fun. And those were my only two goals for this story. 
> 
> In a more detailed warning, I guess I want to let you know that there’s some torture, a lot of murder and blood, and then some gratuitous reunion exhibitionism so if you aren’t into that… skip to the next chapter? It’s okay if your soul hasn’t been completely consumed by dark fanfic. It’s probably better that way.

_ “To love or not; in this we stand or fall” _

 

Ben listened to the clerk’s breath rattle in his lungs, his swollen throat, his bloody, open mouth.

 

“I just need the file,” he said, watching to make sure the man’s one unclosed eye was focused on him. “Just the one. Isn’t that worth your life?”

 

He and the clerk both knew he wasn’t getting out of this. That one unswollen, bloodshot eye was focused on Ben’s face, and he could feel the other man’s pain and acceptance.

 

“One file,” he amended, “And you go quickly.”

 

“‘Ss,” the clerk slurred. Poe slid off the desk where he’d been perched, picked up a mug, and slipped into the empty, darkened halls of the courthouse. He came back a few moments later and held the cup of water to the man’s bloody mouth. Water and snot and blood dribbled, but some of the water got down, because the clerk then croaked, “Judge Hampton’s case. Upstairs…”

 

His head lolled, and when Poe stepped forward to smack the man awake Ben stopped him. “It’s enough,” he said. “The file will be in Hampton’s records. I’ll go look for it after-”

 

“I’ll finish here,” said Poe. “Get the info, boss.”

 

Ben stood, wiped his hands on his trousers (bloody fingerprints smearing down, war paint, life and death in red) and walked out of the room. There was a heavy noise behind him but Ben kept going, passing though little windows of moonlight reflected on the hard, echoing marble floors of the empty county courthouse.

 

Two weeks. Two weeks without Rey, without the woman he’d taken to love, to heart, to bed. Two weeks without the one thing that made him want to be a better man.

 

Ben jogged up the stairs, his boots echoing in the staircase, and then he was moving down the hall reading gold-printed names on the neat, polished doors.

 

Hampton.

 

Impatient, done waiting and asking and staking out the homes of courthouse workers, Ben put his boot to the door and was inside the room all in one motion, momentum carrying him past the receptionist’s desk and to the wall of filing cabinets along the wall.

 

She’d have used the name Cassidy. It was what they’d agreed on: Clyde and Bonnie Cassidy.

 

The Cs were in the third drawer. He found her file, glanced at the picture pinned to the flap, and headed back down the way he came.

 

Poe was waiting in the hallway, leaning back against the wall, wiping his hands on a now-splotchy piece of linen. “We cleaning up?” he asked.

 

“No,” said Ben. “Leave him.”

 

Finn and Rose were parked two blocks away, appearing like any other down-on-their-luck couple that was living out of the car.

 

Rose sat up as soon as Ben and Poe slid into the backseat. “We good?” she asked, cranking the engine over and letting the car hum in idle.

 

“I got what we need,” said Ben, and Rose put the car and gear and headed out of town.

 

“Where we headed?” she asked after they’d left the town limits.

 

Ben had used the little electric torch to read through Rey’s file. “She got two year’s work camp out in bumfuck,” he said. “It’s outside Branson, so head southwest.”

 

The drive took forever, and Ben could feel himself drifting again, back towards that place of despair and ennui and _man without purpose._

 

They rolled into Branson just as the sun set. The work crew would have already gone in for the day, but Rose drove by the jail anyway. Barbed wire fenced surrounded the long brown building, and bile rose in Ben’s throat at the thought of Rey- his loyal, beautiful Rey- being kept from him in such a place.

 

“Not a bad spot,” said Finn. “Good cover in the treeline, it’s apart from other buildings. Decent layout for an ambush.”

 

“We don’t know how many guards they send out and what the routine is,” said Rose.

 

“Have to scout out the place,” Finn agreed.

 

“That’s how they got her last time,” said Ben. “We- I- rushed into it. Let’s take tomorrow to stake out the place.”

 

Rose pulled away, the car rattling down the evening-lit road.

 

“We should lift another car,” said Poe. “Double the cover and double the ability to escape.”

 

“Needs to be from a different town,” said Finn. “If we get it done soon enough we can get back here, get some rest before the stakeout.

 

“Let’s go,” said Ben. He didn’t want to spend one more second away from Rey, but at least if he was doing something it felt productive. Tomorrow would be long, boring, and painful, but it would get him one step closer to his goal.

 

One day closer to Rey.

 

~~~

 

_Fall is in the air,_ Rey thought as she joined the line of women filing out of the prison. It was cool this morning, the air less humid, and the leaves on the dogwood tree at the corner of the lot were just starting to turn, a little red border edging the green within. It was cool enough that she tugged her state-issued secondhand sweater higher over her arms while she hoped that the weather made today more bearable.

 

Their assignment for the last few days had been to pick rocks out of a field.

 

That was it. To walk along, bent double, pulling rocks out of the dirt and putting them into a soft cotton bag. Rey didn’t have any idea why, and the one woman who’d been curious enough to ask had been forced to skip two meals in a row.

 

Soon enough their line started moving, weaving its way out of the fenced in yard and onto the shoulder of the road. There they’d follow the fence down to the tree-lined stretch of road, and then about a mile later they’d arrive at the rock field.

 

Rey’s cheap shoes slid around on her feet, and the thin cardboard sole let her feel every pebble or tree root, but it really wasn’t a bad morning for a walk. It was quiet, the birds were singing, and-

 

A gunshot rang out of the woods to her left and up ahead the window on the water truck shattered. The driver must have been hit because the truck rolled off the road and into a tree, where the radiator hissed. A few women screamed, and the wardens drew their guns, shouting, “Stay in line! Don’t you cunts even think about moving.”

 

The warden closest to Rey, the one who’d just called them cunts, had his throat blown out. Little drops of blood spattered over Rey’s skirt and pandemonium ensued.

 

Wardens were running out of the jail now, all three members of the day shift that usually stayed inside. Women were running and screaming, some back to the jail, and others (smarter ones, in Rey’s opinion) were sprinting into the woods.

 

Rey just stood where she was, smiling, as all around her gunfire broke the morning calm and everywhere people screamed.

 

Rey knew what this meant.

 

Ben had found her.

 

Slowly, dreamily, Rey moved to where the throat-shot guard lay dead on the hard-packed dirt of the road. His pistol was still in his hand and Rey took it, letting her wrist test the weight of the weapon. It was heavier than what she was used to, and the barrel was longer, but that was okay: she could adjust.

 

“Drop it!” a man yelled behind her. One of the inside wardens must have caught up.

 

“No,” said Rey without turning around.

 

“I said drop it!” he shrieked.

 

It was the last thing he said before his head was blown off, too.

 

Not many women were left along the road, which was good. It meant the shooting could really begin in earnest.

 

Two of the wardens- Marcus and one of his pals- were using a transport vehicle as cover, but the shots coming from both sides of the road had them pretty well pinned down.

 

“Ben?” Rey called.  She slowly spun in the road, her eyes searching the woods around her. “Ben?”

 

He stepped out of the trees, and it was like he’d always been there. “Oh, _Ben,”_ sighed Rey, and then she was running to him and was being scooped up in his arms. “I knew you’d find me.”

 

Ben fisted his hand in her hair and tugged her head back, bowing her over his forearm so he could kiss her properly.

 

“I’m sorry it took me so long, kitten. Won’t happen again.”

 

“There better not _be_ an again,” said Rey, pressing another, gentler kiss to Ben’s lips. As she did another shot rang out, and she looked over Ben’s shoulder to see Poe stepping out of the trees.

 

“Howdy, sweetheart,” he said. “Sorry to bust up this reunion, but the cops were thinking about sticking their heads out from behind that truck.”

 

“Hi Edgar,” said Rey, giving him a grin and finger wave. She loved that he’d taken Edgar Allen’s name as his undercover honorific. “Where’re the others?”

 

Ben just took her by the shoulders and turned Rey around so she could watch Rose and Finn sneak up behind the cowering wardens.

 

“Drop your guns,” said Finn as he pressed the barrel of his six shooter to the back of one man’s skull.  

 

“You too,” said Rose, giving Marcus the same treatment.

 

“Tulip,” (it took Rey a minute to remember Rose’s code name), “Could you be a dear and bring those folks out here?” asked Rey, her voice lilting and sing-song.

 

Finn and Rose marched Marcus and his pal out into the middle of the road. It was a cool and quiet morning once more: the women had all fled and the guards on the ground had finally stopped moaning. Rey had no doubt that the police had been called, but she had just a little bit of business to handle first.

 

Rey took Ben’s hand with her left and walked right up to Marcus.

 

“Kneel,” she told him.

 

Those mean little eyes glared at her.

 

“Kneel,” she said, and lightning fast her right hand darted forward and her knuckles connected with that special and particularly _tender_ part of a man.

 

He went down like a sack of cement, his face going green under his summer tan.

 

“Clyde, I’d like you to meet Marcus,” she said, gesturing grandly to the wincing man. “Marcus, wouldn’t you like to tell Clyde about your little habit?

 

“Hello there, Marcus,” said Ben, all false joviality. “Any friend of Bonnie’s is a friend of mine.”

 

“Oh Ben!” Rey’s hand flew to her lips, the boundless coquette. “I didn’t say that Marcus was a _friend.”_

 

“Not a friend? Now how could someone not want to be friends with you, doll?”

 

Rey felt like she was flying. This- this was why she loved Ben. The charm, the life, and easy wit, the roguish eye. This was _fun._ This was the kind of torture Rey could get behind.

 

“Well…” Rey drawled. “He wanted to be friends- more than friends, if you know what I mean.”

 

Ben’s eyes, which had been friendly, went dark and cold.

 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

 

On the ground, Marcus gibbered.

 

Ben crouched down, those long, beautiful legs folding gracefully beneath him. “You like my girl, huh?”

 

“He liked certain parts of your girl,” said Rey, nudging Marcus with the toe of her shoe.

 

“Never say it,” said Ben, standing and pulling Rey against him, kissing her hard.

 

When they broke apart Rey held a hand out towards Poe- ‘Edgar’- who ceremoniously handed her a revolver.

 

“Scoot back a tetch, Tulip. Don’t want to wing you,” said Rey, the smile still on her lips.

 

Up until now she hadn’t wanted to participate in the hurting of other people. She had, of course, but she’d told herself it was self defense. This certainly wasn’t, this was nothing but pure gratuitous enjoyment of somebody else’s pain, and oh- it was a heady bouquet.

 

Rey shot Marcus in the knee. He was still kneeling, so it was a winging blow, but he still fell to the side yelling. That gave her a better angle, so she shot him in the foot. Four bullets left.

 

“You took advantage of us,” she said, advancing on the writhing man. “You touched us and groped us and scared us.

 

She shot him in the left shoulder, heard him shriek. Three bullets left.

 

“You watched us _sleep.”_

 

Right shoulder, and now she was standing directly over him, now she could feel a fine spray of warm blood settling over her skin.

 

“You said that you thought of me when you pleasured yourself at night!”

 

She crouched now, the barrel of the gun pressed to the man’s penis, which would have traveled all the way up into the man’s throat if it could have gotten away.

 

“No,” he sobbed, tears and snot streaming down his pale face. “No, no.”

 

“Yes,” said Rey, her smile long gone. She shot him in the groin and as the recoil lifted her arm she followed the motion and shot him in the head.

 

Marcus didn’t have time to scream.

 

One bullet left.

 

The man- the last guard- was sobbing. Finn caught Rey’s look as she turned, and he was out of the way when the last shot rang out into the morning.

 

“We need to go,” she said, letting the empty gun drop to the ground.

 

Ben took her hand and pulled her into the woods. “We’re parked in a field over here,” he said. They ran along, running through the woods, and Rey thought about nymphs. There were tree nymphs and water nymphs. Were there death nymphs? Because that’s how she felt.

 

The cars were parked on the other side of this spit of trees. Finn and Rose jumped into the first one, and Ben yanked Rey into the backseat of the second. Poe slid behind the wheel and they were off, chasing the horizon, the scene of blood and fear fading away behind them.

 

Ben leaned over the seat and told Poe, “You keep your eyes on the road and your ears closed. You get me?”

 

“Sure thing boss,” said Poe. “Give her a kiss for me.”

 

Rey laughed and gave Poe a kiss on the cheek, all for him, before turning into Ben’s arms.

 

“People may see,” she said.

 

“Let them see,” said Ben.

 

“Poe will hear,” she said, a grin spreading over her face.

 

“Nothing he hasn’t heard before,” said Ben, one of this big hot hands sliding up under her skirt.

 

“Then here we go,” said Rey. She shimmied out of her underpants, keeping her skirt modestly down, and toed off her shoes and socks. She knew this was wrong (along with theft and greed and lust and murder) but she needed this in a way she’d never felt before.

 

She felt _alive._ She could feel every inch of her body, could feel her heart beating and her lungs expanding and her skin tingling where Ben touched her. She needed this, needed to feel as close as two people could be.

 

Ben patted his lap invitingly, and Rey saw that he’d already undone his belt and the top two buttons on his trousers. Happily she straddled his lap, her knees bracketing his hips, and cupped his upturned face in her hands.

 

“I missed you,” she murmured against his lips.

 

“I missed you too,” said Ben, taking a moment to rest his forehead against hers.

 

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered as Ben kissed along her neck and jaw.

 

He took her chin, turned her eyes to his. “I always will,” he said seriously.

 

They kissed again, wet and hot until Rey forgot where he he ended and she began, until she forgot her name and sins and past, until her world was Ben; a solar eclipse of all that had come before.

 

When they pulled away Rey saw little smudges of reddish brown on Ben’s face and she touched her cheek, only now aware of the tacky blood drying there.

 

“I-”

 

“You’re perfect,” said Ben, one hand sliding up the back of her thigh and over her ass. “The destroyer goddess, death and life in one. Powerful.”

 

Rey felt powerful, and slowly, deliberately, she rolled her hips against Ben, reveling in the efficiency of her body, the smooth piston action of her joints.

 

“That’s it,” Ben whispered, looking up, watching her face. He had one hand on her hip and the other had slid up her thigh and around to her wet cunny, those long fingers stroking against her.

 

Rey spread her legs more, hunkering down over Ben, and fiddled with his fly until his cock sprang free. She couldn’t help the _mmm_ noise she made, and Ben laughed.

 

“You’re looking at me like an ice cream on a hot day,” he said.

 

“You’re not wrong,” said Rey, leaning back so she could stroke his length, giving the base of his cock the tighter squeeze that Ben preferred. Ben put a hand on the small of her back, supporting her, and Rey let the rhythm of sex take her under.

 

Soon she couldn’t wait any longer, and Ben braced her as she slid herself down onto his cock. It was that feeling of coming home, of fullness, of satisfaction and lust and need.

 

She set up a rocking rhythm, letting the jolting of the car do some of her work for her. Ben’s hand was splayed over her stomach beneath her dress, his thumb on her clit, and Rey’s eyes were closed, her fingers clinched in the material over Ben’s shoulders.

 

_God,_ did Rey ever love his shoulders.

 

They were on the highway now, the wind roaring through the car, and Rey could smell Ben and blood and alkaline dust and _freedom_ and she was panting in Ben’s ear, her hips chasing pleasure, moving in a dance older than time and Ben’s teeth were gritted together, that strong jaw locked and his fingers gripping Rey’s hips so tightly that she would bruise, she hoped she bruised, she wanted to wear Ben’s marks on her skin-

 

And then she came, the world going white and right; she was home and safe and warm.

 

Ben followed after, with Rey slumped on his chest, her damp curls tickling his chin.

 

“I love you,” Rey whispered, her warm against Ben’s neck.

 

“I love you too,” he said, holding her close. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning of the end! This was the halfway point, and I've already got the rest of the story plotted out. Thank you to those who've stuck with me this far; I know readers usually stop paying attention to a fic in the middle. You guys are the best, and interacting with other writers/readers is what makes fanfic so fun and rewarding. 
> 
> Btw: I've come up with a way to balance my need to have a BLAZE O' GLORY ending with y'all's need for a happy ending. It's even [VioletWilson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwilson/pseuds/Violetwilson) approved! (Also you need to check out Violet's stuff if you haven't, it's so so good.)


	5. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ah- Major Character Wounded and a pretty gross description of said wound?

_“Farewell happy fields,_

_Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”_

 

Their drive from the prison was random and joyful, with frequent stops at hotels and gas stations and all night diners. They ate together laughing, chasing canned vienna sausages with champagne, stealing apples from orchards and buying thousand dollar coats when the weather turned cool, all because they could.

 

“It’s almost Thanksgiving,” said Rose one night from her spot on the floor. They’d rented a furnished penthouse apartment, three bedrooms, silk-covered antiques, indoor plumbing, the whole deal.  It was like playing house, all of them cooking together, going out shopping, lounging around with wine and listening to the radio.

 

“Want to do it here?” asked Finn, playing with Rose’s hair. “Make a day of it?”

 

“We could go to my parents’ place,” said Ben. He was sitting at one end of the couch, Rey’s feet in his lap, and she was sprawled on the other.

 

“They’d be okay with us?” asked Poe. “Don’t forget we’re wanted men. And ladies,” he added, winking at Rey.

 

“They’d be fine,” said Ben. “Dad’s been smuggling booze for a decade; he won’t say a word.”

 

“What’s your momma going to think?” Poe asked.

 

“She’s love us, too. She always went for big holiday meals. Besides, I want my mother to meet you all.”

 

He said this to the room in general, but his eyes were locked on Rey’s. _He wants_ me _to meet his mama,_ she thought, her stomach going fluttery.

 

She’d had marriage on her mind ever since the lockup. She knew Ben loved her, she knew he was committed, but… there was something about saying those vows, about promising to love him in all things ( _even death,_ she thought, but pushed it away) that meant something.

 

If he wanted her to meet his parents… maybe he was thinking the same thing.

 

“Where’re your folks living?” asked Finn.

 

“Decatur, Texas,” said Ben. “Couple hours drive from here.”

 

“At least call and warn them,” said Rey, wiggling her toes. Ben took the hint and picked up one of her feet and started rubbing, those strong thumbs working her arches and making the rest of her melt bonelessly into the couch.

 

“I can do that,” said Ben. “I’ll give them a call in the morning.”

 

~~~

 

Ben’s parents were thrilled that they were coming to visit, and Rey insisted that the gang not show up empty handed. Poe loped off in search of some decent wine, which was, of course, still prohibited. The rest of the gang was on a pie-making mission.

 

Rose turned out to be the only one of them who’d ever even made a pie crust, so she was on pastry duty. Finn was allowed to mix the fillings, which left Ben and Rey on apple peeling duty.

 

“Why do we have to do this?” asked Ben for what had to be the fourth time. “We could just buy some. You realize that we can afford things now, right?”

 

Rey shushed him by holding a little piece of sliced apple to his lips. “It means more if we do it ourselves.”

 

He took it from her, making sure to lick the tip of her finger. When she gave him a mock-stern glare he smiled and said, “Would have been sticky otherwise.”

 

Eventually the wine was purchased, the pies were assembled, and a couple new cars had been purloined for the trip. No need to drag trouble to the Solos’ house without cause.  The gang piled in and wound their way through the lukewarm autumn day.

 

Ben’s parents lived in a ranch house in an older neighborhood, one with smooth, manicured yards and dignified houses. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up,” Rey whispered to Ben as they parked the cars. “You grew up somewhere like this?”

 

“Basically,” said Ben.

 

“It’s only missing the white picket fence!” hissed Rey as the front door opened and a short woman shot out, followed closely by a tall guy (though not as tall as Ben) with a full head of white hair.

 

“Ben!” the woman said, heading his way.  He bent down to hug her, his frame dwarfing hers, and then he shook hands with his father, all manly dignity and pride.

 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said as she released him.

 

“You must be Rey,” said Mrs. Solo, taking one of Rey’s hands in both of hers.

 

“That’s me,” she said, unsure what to do.

 

“Call me Leia. You’re just as pretty as he said you were,” she said, keeping Rey’s hand and tugging her towards the house. “Now come on in and tell me all about your adventures.”

 

Rey shot Ben a panicked look over her shoulder. The bastard just winked at her as he carried the pies into the house.

 

Ben ended up doing most of the talking, telling his parents heavily sanitized versions of their exploits. Han told them stories about smuggling and how even the federal agents along the gulf coast didn’t seem to care. The food was plentiful and the wine kept flowing, nobody’s glass ever empty. By the end of dinner Rey’s stomach hurt from eating too much, her cheeks ached from laughing, and the lights seemed too bright, dipping and blazing above her.

 

“We should go,” said Ben eventually. He’d switched to water ...at some point, thought Rey, which was a good thing. She definitely couldn’t drive.

 

“Oh, but-” said Leia, ready to cut Ben off.

 

“Mom, you don’t have enough room for us here, and the truth of it is I’d rather not risk you anymore than we already have,” said Ben.

 

It was almost another hour before they left, and by that point Rey felt flat-out sick. _Too much wine,_ she thought glumly. But hey- if you couldn’t overindulge on Thanksgiving, when could you?  Leia was busy wrapping up leftovers and hugging then all for the fourth time. Poe and Finn were propping each other up while singing _Body and Soul_ with Han. It was possible that one or all of them were crying.

 

Eventually Rose poured Finn and Poe into the backseat of one of their cars. Ben tucked Rey into the second, and neatly set an open and empty paper bag down by her feet, just in case.

 

“You good?” Rey asked as Ben slid behind the wheel.

 

“Just tired,” he said. He backed out of the driveway and then Rose followed him down the quiet residential street.

 

“I liked seeing you there, with my family,” said Ben. “They liked you.”

 

“I liked them,” she said, letting her head loll against the doorframe. The cool autumn air was helping with the spinning, and she could just about manage to hold a conversation without thinking she was going to barf. “You remind me of your dad.”

 

“Really?” Ben glanced over at her. “Most people think I’m more like my mom.”

 

“Nah,” said Ben. “She’s way too measured and calculating. Your dad is all impulsive and adrenaline burns and snarky one liners like you.”

 

“I think I’ve been insulted,” said Ben, but he said it with a laugh.

 

“You know I-”

 

She never got to finish her sentence. Lights flashed on, spotlights coming from each side of the road like twin suns, and behind them they could hear a police siren start to wail.

 

“Police,” whispered Rey as Ben stomped the clutch and threw the car into higher gear. “How did they find us?”

 

The air tore at her hair, knocking the pins out. “How did they _find_ us,” she asked again, waking up to the problem.

 

“I don’t know,” Ben shouted.

 

Rey spun in her seat and leaned over into the back, feeling around on the floorboard for- there.  She angled back up with one of their two Tommy guns in her hands. She checked the drum clip and then leaned out the window, wedging her hip tight against the car frame.

 

She knew Rose saw her. Rose nodded and swerved the car to her left as Rey opened fire. The _ratatatatat_ temporarily deafened Rey, but she car the police car’s windshield shattered. A few seconds later something popped and it swerved off the road.

 

“I got one,” Rey called to Ben. “But there are two more.” They heard gunfire, and assumed that Poe had sobered up enough to find the Tommy gun stored in the other car. She leaned out the window and saw Poe shoot out the front tires of the second police car. The third smashed into the disabled vehicle, and then Rey and Ben and the gang were pulling away.

 

“They crashed,” she whooped! “Drive, baby!”

 

Ben’s teeth were gritted. “I’m driving,” he said, his fingers tight on the wheel. “Shit!”

 

Rey felt the car go weightless for a moment as the driver’s side hit something and bounced, pushing her into the air. She was still facing the wrong way, and when the car came down- sideways, sliding, the engine loud- she went down with it.

 

The next thing she knew, briefly, was pain.

 

“-into a ditch-” that was Ben’s voice, Ben was okay, that was good. She was in agony- her gut, her head, but mostly her leg, but only from the knee up. Maybe she was missing the bottom portion, maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt. That would be terrible.

 

She slipped away again.

 

The next time she woke there was a mask over her nose and mouth, the air thin and cloying. She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

 

She couldn’t scream, couldn’t let them know she was awake.

 

She slipped into the darkness again.

 

Rusting. Someone holding her hand.

 

“May never straighten her leg again,” said someone: a low, quiet voice. “I wish you would let us take it, now, when she’s out.”

 

“You aren’t cutting off her leg,” said someone. Ben. That was Ben. “She’ll heal. She’s strong.”

 

_So much faith,_ Rey thought. _Not in god. Faith in_ me.

 

This time, she slept.

 

~~~

 

When Rey awoke truly, really awoke, she was in someone’s living room. It was strange- radio and woodstove in one corner, her bed in the other. A front door, curtains, a pitcher of water.

 

She was so thirsty, thirsty and woolheaded.

 

“Hello?” she croaked. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “Hello?” she asked again.

 

Ben came into the room then, his eyes dull. They widened when he saw her looking at him, and he rushed to her side. “Oh, baby, Rey, are you okay? Are you in pain?”

 

“Water,” she mouthed, her voice barely making a sound at all.

 

He poured a glass and held it to her. She dribbled a bit, but he caught the moisture with his thumb.

 

“What happened?” she asked. She was still oddly numb, and her memory was… fuzzy, at best.

 

“What do you remember?” asked Ben, his eyebrows drawn with worry.

 

“Thanksgiving, with your parents,” she said. “I remember… the police!” she said, trying to sit up. “Where are Rose and Finn and Poe.”

 

“Out getting food,” he said. “They’re fine. There was an accident…”

 

He told her, and pieces came floating back.

 

“The neighbors called the cops on us,” said Ben. “That’s how the police knew. We had to sneak you out of the hospital one night, because we thought they were getting suspicious, too.”

 

“How long?” asked Rey.

 

“Ten days,” said Ben. “You were in the hospital for four, and we’ve been giving you morphine for the pain. It makes it hard to remember.”

 

“My- my leg?” asked Rey, because now the pain was back.

 

Ben closed his eyes, clearly steeling himself. “It won’t be the same,” he said. “But you should be able to use it, at least a little. The doctor said it would straighten, in time.”

 

Rey tried to move her toes. They were sluggish, but comfortable. The minute she tried to move her leg… “Ah!” she gasped, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

 

“Don’t,” said Ben. “Don’t hurt yourself, kitten, please.”

 

He cradled Rey’s face then and kissed her delicately, like she was something lovely and fine, when she knew for a fact she hadn’t washed her face or brushed her teeth in ten days.

 

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

 

“I want to see it,” said Rey immediately.

 

“Rey-”

 

“It’s mine. My leg, my future. I need to see it.”

 

“The battery acid… it splashed on your leg before the flame did. It’ll never all come back. Even if the nerves heal, it’ll never all come back.”

 

“Okay,” said Rey.

 

Ben peeled the clean white sheets down the bed, arranging them neatly. A thin towel was draped across the naked skin of Rey’s right calf, and it was spotted here and there with pinkish liquid, clear liquid, yellow liquid.

 

“The doctors said this was normal,” said Ben. Then he lifted the towel.

 

Most of the muscle on the back of Rey’s leg was gone. No burnt bits remained- they must have been removed in surgery- but what they’d left was an open, angry red mess of clotted blood and scabbing skin.

 

“Cover it,” she whispered. “Cover it.”

 

The next days went by in a haze of morphine and humiliation. Rey had to be fed, had to be carried to the bathroom, had to be washed and changed and moved in the bed.

 

Slowly, a thin layer of skin grew from the edges of the wound. When she was alone Rey tried to straighten her leg, tried to encourage the healing tendons and sinews and flesh to stretch and move.

 

Every day she could straighten her leg less.

 

~~~

 

One afternoon, maybe three weeks after the crash, Rey woke up from her nap earlier than usual. She hadn’t heard anyone in the other room, and after being a physical burden to the others she was loathe to call them but...

 

Rey needed the bathroom, needed it more badly than her next breath. She couldn’t stand the indignity of being carried there anymore, couldn’t stand to know the depths of vulnerability that came with infirmity. She tried to haul herself out of bed. Her head swam, but she swallowed hard and stayed upright.

 

Slowly, using the edge of the low headboard for leverage, she pulled herself upright, balancing herself on her whole and unblemished left leg. For one heartbeat, two, Rey stood on her own. She collapsed on the third, her knees and palms hitting the smooth obsidian floor.

 

Rey crawled. The floor was smooth, hard and cold beneath her. She didn’t think of the pain, she pushed that aside. Pain she could take, at least this pain. She moved her left hand, her right leg. It hurt her hip because she had to crawl almost sideways, trying not to drag her ruined leg over the floor behind her.

 

Right hand, left leg. Left hand, right leg. Rey fell into a rhythm, a slow dance of pain and nausea, but still- progress was being made, her goal was closer now.

 

Left hand, right leg, right hand, left leg, right- _and Rey was back on the plains, back inside farmhouse where Plutt had lived in filth and rage, and once more she was lying on the floor of his kitchen with her head ringing as he brought the fire poker down on her ribs, once again she was staggering outside trying to suck air into a lung that felt like a popped balloon, every breath scraping in with the agony that is life-_

 

She’d made it. Rey’s face was inches from the cool bowl of the toilet.

 

She’d come too far to give up now, to soil herself here, broken in will as well as body.

 

She braced her hands on opposite curves of the porcelain and shoved. Her shoulders shrieked, her pulse pounded in her temples, and for the first time she was glad that Ben and Rose hadn’t bothered to dress her this morning. She wouldn’t have been able to get it out of the way on her own.

 

Task finally completed Rey sat for another long moment in place. She thought she could sleep here, perched naked as she was, but she’d come here to avoid humiliation, not to compound it.  She slid off the toilet, leaned against the cool surface of the shower block- she’d just rest for a moment, enjoy the cool tiles of the shower against her temple- and passed out.

 

She woke up when Ben’s warm hand wiggled behind her shoulder.

 

“Hmm?” She looked up at him with her eyes squinted against the pain and against the light. He was crouched down in front of her, and he looked almost as bad as she felt. His eyes were to bright with deep, dark circles under them. He looked thinner, and sharper, and Rey wondered if he was eating anything solid in between taking shifts with her.

 

“Let’s get you back in bed,” he said.

 

Tears began to trickle out of Rey’s eyes. It never ceased to amaze her that after the ocean of tears she’d cried, she could still make more.

 

“Kitten?” Ben asked, his voice down to a whisper. “Am I hurting you?”

 

Rey shook her head.

 

“What is it?” he asked.

 

Rey looped her arms around his neck and Ben got the message. He lifted her into his lap carefully, gently extending her mangled leg out as far as it could go.

 

“How long has it been?” Rey asked. The morphine they’d stolen made her sleep, and when she stretched the time out between her doses she would get sucked down into sweat-filled pain dreams.

 

“Twenty five days,” Ben murmured into her hair.

 

“I still can’t straighten my leg,” said Rey.

 

“These things-”

 

“The doctor said I wouldn’t,” said Rey.

 

Ben stiffened under her. “I didn’t know you’d heard that,” he said.

 

“I did. I tried for you, Ben. I try to make it go straight, but every day I can feel it pulling tighter and tighter.” She was sobbing now, choking out the words in broken gasps. “You should- you all- I’ll slow you down,” she said, her heart breaking at the thought of being left behind, but knowing it was the best thing to do. It was the only way to keep Ben safe.

 

She felt Ben’s fingers fist in her hair, and this pain she welcomed- this was _pleasurepain,_ this sting came with love and belonging and fun. He tugged her neck back, forced her to look into his dark eyes. “You don’t talk like that,” he said. “You don’t pretend that all we had was this, that it was just fun while it lasted. I would walk though rivers of blood for you, Rey, and if we go, we go together.”

 

“I love you,” Rey whispered. She’d thought she meant it before, but she knows better now. That was heat and fire and spark, that was need. She’d been burned down to ashes now, cold and nearly gone, and still that love remained.

 

“I love you too,” he said, loosening his grip in her hair.

 

He carried her back to the bed, pretending not to hear her shallow gasps as she tried to breathe through the pain. “I can’t drive,” she told him once they were settled. His back was to the headboard and she was draped across his lap.

 

“I know,” he said.

 

“And I won’t be able to help on heists. I’m too recognizable.”

 

“I know,” he said. “We’ll give it up. We’ll come up with a plan and buy some little place out where nobody had ever heard of us. It’ll be okay.”

 

That’s when Rey saw the tear slowly rolling down Ben’s cheek. She brushed it away with the tip of her finger. “Ben?”

 

He crushed Rey to him, and _god_ it felt good to be held tightly, to be squeezed against this man so tightly that she wasn’t sure whose heartbeat she was hearing. “I thought I’d killed you, Rey,” he said. “And I was so angry, when you were out of your mind or drugged I was so angry, but _gods,_ I almost lost you.”

 

“Here I thought you were sad to be giving up a life of crime,” said Rey through her own tears, trying to make a joke of it.

 

“It’s all I want,” he said, his tone serious. “This- this almost took you from me. Right now I think I’d be content to be bored and stable for the rest of my life.”

 

Rey traced her finger over Ben’s soft upper lip. “Honey, I don’t think life with you could ever be boring.”

 

Ben smiled through his tears, lowered his forehead to Rey’s, and rocked them until dawn broke in the sky outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real-life Bonnie really was wounded like this, and honestly the detail that still makes my heart clench is that for the rest of their (short) lives, Clyde would *carry her with him.* If that isn't some true "sickness and in health" love, I don't know what is. 
> 
> [Okay it probably doesn't involved dragging your true love into a doomed life of crime but THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.]
> 
> Next chapter will be better! I hope! I know this one was pretty gloomy.


	6. Glory

 

> _“For so I created them free and free they must remain.”_

 

Less than a year- less than one year and everything had come apart at the seams. Rey watched as Ben and Poe finished loading the cars with everything they’d need. Rose was sitting on a trunk with Rey, holding her hand in the moonlight.

 

The night sky was clear, and that was a shame. There was no cloud cover- they’d been counting on clouds and mist to cover their one last heist. It was January, and cold, and Rey’s leg ached. How could Oklahoma be so hot in the summers and so cold in the winters?

 

She was wearing a cheap grey wool coat; part of their disguises for the night. Ben had bought her a beautiful knee-length fur for Christmas; it was so warm and soft and silky-smooth. She’d worn the coat for him- just the coat. She smiled a little at the memory, and then the men wandered over.

 

“You clear on the plan?” Ben asked the group at large.

 

“Yep,” said Poe. “The three of us, we hit Eisenberg’s, the feed store, then come back here to meet you.”

 

“And the car,” said Ben. “A Ford, if you can.”

 

“We’ll get a Ford,” said Rose, and she squeezed Rey’s hand.

 

“If Rey and I aren’t back here by two, you go without us,” said Ben.

 

_I need to say goodbye,_ thought Rey. _I need to say goodbye to them, to my family._

 

“Got it,” said Finn.

 

Rose turned to hug Rey tightly before getting in the car with Finn and Poe. “You’ve got this,” she whispered. Rey could smell the lavender shampoo Rose had gotten for Christmas.

 

“You too,” Rey whispered back, and then Rose was bundling into the backseat under a heavy blanket and Finn was driving the car out into the night.

 

“Your turn,” said Ben, turning to Rey, He scooped her up easily now: he was strong, Rey was thin, and they’d gotten used to this procedure. She was comfortable riding perched on Ben’s shoulder, her fingers playing in the rough brushed silk of his hair.

 

She’d feared being left behind after her injury. Even after Ben had promised never to leave her she’d worried that she wouldn’t get to go along with her friends, that she’d be stuck in bed at home, but that wasn’t the case. Ben carried her, everywhere they went. For short distances he’d cradle her against his chest, and Rey could listen to his heart thump in time like the rhythm of a train on the tracks: _thumthump, thumthump._

 

If he wanted to carry her outside, or get her into the car, he carried her like this: her bum on his shoulder, her heels knocking against his belly, her hand in his hair. How did she deserve this? How did she deserve a man with shoulders broad enough to carry two; with a brain sharp enough to save them all; a heart big enough for all the misfits of the world?

 

He tucked her into the car with blankets and furs and then slid into the seat next to her. “Ready?” he asked.

 

_She was ready to follow wherever he led._

 

“Always,” she said, grinning.

 

She still enjoyed this part: the thrumming adrenaline, the thrill of adventure, the taste of freedom in her mouth. When the engine turned over it was like the roar of a dragon or the boom of a cannon: a call to battle that Rey could feel in her bones.

 

The cold air stung her face as the car picked up speed, and Rey burrowed deeper into the fur and cotton cocoon that Ben had made for her. This task- this last hit- was the one that had nerves twisting sickly in her belly. All the others… they’d been fun, they’d been a game, and the money had been a goal rather than a necessity.

 

Tonight- this macabre assignation- it all rested on this. There were posters of their faces everywhere, plastered in every store and on every bank door. Ben’s parents had been forced into publicly disowning their son, saying they had no idea where he was; that they hadn’t heard from him since the crash. The feds had been called in, and rumor was that they had permission to kill.

 

It was open season on the Solo Gang.

 

The drive to the morgue didn’t take long. It was a low building, and attached to the funeral parlor of this dust-choked little town. Ben cut the lights on the car and drove around the back, where a man in a dark coat leaned against the ride of a rusted-out Volkswagen.

 

“Got the cash?” he asked, dropping a cigarette butt into the hard-packed dirt and his boots and stomping it out.

 

“Here,” said Ben. He passed a lunch pail over to the waiting man. “You never saw us, right?”

 

“‘Course,” said their helper. He stood like he was ready to get in his car to leave, but Ben stopped him with one hand on the other man’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t think you understand,” said Ben, and his voice had dropped into that smooth, dark place that reminded Rey of gunsmoke and carmel. “We know you. You think I’d deal with some underpaid corpse cutter in a small town? I _know_ you. Money buys everything, friend, especially information. I know where your momma lives. I know where your kids go to school and where your wife buys her bread. I know you’re in debt for gambling, and that the missus doesn’t know. You take this money, pay off your debts, and forget you ever saw us. Yes?”

 

“Yes,” said the man, his eyes wide.

 

Rey wished she could fuck Ben as soon as this yellow-belly drove off, but they had work to do. Drat. Ben was just so… feline, and predatory, and _hers_ in these moments. It was easy to see how he’d once ruled the financial jungle that was Wall Street.

 

“Good,” said Ben, clapping the man on the back and then stepping away.

 

It took the mortician three tries to get the key into the ignition of the car, and he peeled out of the lot faster than he should have, but Rey was as confident as she could be that he wouldn’t tell anyone about this night’s work.

 

“He left the keys in the door,” said Ben, taking rubber kitchen gloves from his coat pocket and throwing two at her.

 

“These are for…?” asked Rey, putting them on.

 

“Someone- one of my contacts- told me the feds have a new way to get evidence,” said Ben. He looked ridiculous in his dark coat and blue rubber dish gloves. “Something about fingerprints.”

 

Rey tugged on her own pair, grabbed a gunny sack from the backseat, and slowly limped after Ben to the door. He’d built a lift system for her shoe, and that helped, but walking was still laborious and agonizing. She was coated in a thin layer of sweat by the time she reached the door.

 

Ben rested his forehead against hers, and Rey leaned into him, just for a second.

 

“We’re almost there,” said Ben.

 

“I know,” Rey whispered. _She could do this. She’d survived Plutt, and poverty, and having acid poured onto her leg. She was strong._

 

Ben straightened and carefully lit the gas lamp just inside the door. They were in the morgue- two steel tables, a concrete floor, stains she didn’t want to see. There was a body on each table, wrapped in silvery looking blankets.

 

“He said he’d warm them,” said Ben. “So we have to work fast.”

 

Rey didn’t focus on the idea of reheated bodies. She dug in the bag and then tossed Ben a pair of his pants, his shirt and suspenders, socks and shoes. These were going to be the bodies buried for Rey and Ben’s crimes.

 

Ben began unwrapping the body closest to the door. It was the smallest- it was the body meant to be _her,_ and Rey wanted to look away but she couldn’t; this poor woman was going to the grave under Rey’s name; the least Rey could do was look her in the face.

 

The woman, the pseudo-Rey, looked enough like her that is was a little jarring to see her pale and still on the metal tabletop. Her nose was a little larger, and she had more freckles, but the jaw and hair were right. She was naked, and thin, and her legs were both perfect.

 

“Get her dressed,” said Ben, moving to the bigger body. “Time’s wasting.”

 

Getting pseudo-Rey into her bralette was the most difficult part. She had to roll the body to latch it, and in doing so pinned one of the woman’s arms awkwardly under her body. It was a grim reminder that this wasn’t a living person, and that this woman wouldn’t feel pain any more.

 

Underpants next, and then the worst was over.

 

She was warm, eerily so. Rey wondered how the mortician had gotten bodies so whole, so seemingly fresh, and had to put that idea from her mind, because the idea of an innocent woman dying _just because Rey was richer_ made her stomach turn as the physical corpse had not. She gagged, and Ben looked up from his own task.

 

“You alright?”

 

“No,” said Rey, breathing slowly through her nose. “Where did these bodies come from?”

 

“Dallas,” said Ben.

 

“He didn’t- he didn’t kill them, did he?”

 

“No,” said Ben. “You’re almost done, c’mon baby. Just a little more.”

 

Rey nodded and finished buttoning her dress. It was an older one now, one of the first things Ben had ever bought her. He loved her in dresses and soft things. Stockings, then shoes, and pseudo-Rey was done.

 

Rey looked over her work- the hair was fine, and the dress, but something…

 

She unclasped the amethyst bracelet she was wearing and latched it around the wrist of the woman who would carry the burden of her name. She’d carry the weight of censure and hatred and crime. She should have something nice to take with her.

 

Behind Rey Ben was wrapping the not-Ben, and then he did the same to the pseudo-Rey.

 

“It’s alright, kitten,” he said as he lifted the not-Rey into his arms. “It’s alright. She doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. She’s free.”

 

The bodies were stowed in the back of the car with even more blankets piled on top of them. Ben left the keys to the morgue in the door like he’d found them, and then they were back on the road, driving just a little too fast.

 

Rey didn’t know why this, of all her crimes, was bothering her so much. She’d killed men, she’d killed them and kind of _enjoyed_ it, but this poor already-dead woman was making her sick.

 

Maybe-probably- it was because in the end Rey had been prepared to lay claim to her crimes, to face judgement for the wrongs she’d done. They were hers, and she knew that, and yet when this opportunity to run had come she’d leapt at it like a hungry dog. She wanted to live, she wanted to be free with Ben, she wanted a chance to live in one place and be happy.

 

Maybe that was it: when she’d killed and stolen, she’d done it knowing vaguely that it was _her_ crime. Now she was taking all that guilt and blame and public hatred and pinning it on a woman whose name she didn’t know.

 

Finn and Poe and Rose were already at the rendezvous point. Poe was leaning against the car smoking, and Finn and Rose were snuggled against each other in the backseat. Another Ford sat in the lot, this one a little older, dustier, more beaten down by life on the plains.

 

“We’ve got everything,” said Finn.

 

“Split it,” said Ben. “Rey, help Rose. Poe, you and Finn help me get this arranged.”

 

Rose carried a soft bag to Rey, and carefully poured it over the seat of Ben’s car. Jewels poured out in ever color and shape and size. Some were set in earrings and rings and necklaces. Others were loose, shiny stars twinkling across the twilight leather of the seat.

 

Rey gasped, and carefully reached out to run the pad of a finger over a ruby the size of her pinky nail.

 

“Admire later,” said Rose with a grin. “Split them up now.”

 

Carefully they separated out the gems, half into the original velvet bag, half into Rey’s soft purse. The men were unwrapping and arranging the bodies in the front of the beat-up Ford, putting guns into the backseat, and giving the impression that the not-Rey and not-Ben had been using that car for a while.

 

“I’m going to miss you,” said Rose when the jewels were away.

 

“I’m going to miss you too,” said Rey. “Be safe,” she said, taking the other woman’s hand in hers.

 

“Finn wants to go north,” she said. “Minnesota, I think. We’ll find a way to contact each other,” she said. “We’ll make it work.”

 

“Aright,” said Rey, and then it was time for goodbyes. They wouldn’t have a chance later.

 

Poe hugger her tightly, smelling of tobacco and cedar aftershave. “You be good,” he said. “And make sure that man is good to you.”

 

“I will,” said Rey, smiling up into Poe’s handsome face. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

 

Poe winked and tipped his hat, making no promises.

 

Finn was next. His hug was gentle, and he mussed her hair as he leaned away. “What Poe said,” he ginned, and then it was just Rose.

 

They’d said what they needed to say, so the women just hugged before Rose slid into the seat of the other car.

 

Ben was in what Rey couldn’t help but think of as the corpse car. The not-Ben was in the middle of the front seat, with not-Rey against the door.

 

Poe drove Rey’s car, and Finn and Rose followed in the rear.

 

It was late, and cold, and finally a thick fog had fallen. The three cars chugged along in a short train to freedom- or perdition.

 

On a short stretch of rural, nondescript highway Ben stopped, throwing the death car into neutral. Poe kissed Rey’s cheek and slid out of the car, melting away into the fog. She heard Finn’s car turn away, their running lights fading, and then Ben was back in with her.

 

It was horrifying, a silent movie in which Rey played a part. They couldn’t talk- Ben knew there were cops all through these woods, planning on finding the _Criminals that Terrorized the West!_

 

Slowly, carefully, Ben coasted the car forward until the nose of their car was pressed against the bumper of the one ahead of them. Rey could just make out the shadow of not-Ben’s head lolling in the driver’s seat as the car began to move, and then they were picking up steam, the cars were rolling now, the road a short, straight incline, and the sun was rising in the east turning the sky lavender, the color of morning (of mourning) and gunfire rang out into the foggy winter air. Machine guns rattled their rat-a-tat-tat, bullets pinged off the steel car frame, and Rey’s heart thundered in her ears as Ben crunched the clutch to the floor, threw the car into reverse, and cranked the wheel, spinning them- weightlessness, fear, _oh god another crash, and this one would kill her and it was all for nothing, Ben,_ Ben!- and then they were roaring off, away from the war, from justice, from death.

 

The drove like mad men as the sun rose, not caring which road they took as long as it  was away from the massacre that the police would call fair and the feds would call justice. The car bounced over the hills of the dusty prairie, and in the east dust in the sky turned the sun blood-red.

 

Ben paused on one rise in the middle of nowhere. What grass there was was brown and dead, and dust stirred in little eddies as the morning breeze skimmed over the plains.

 

Less than a year ago Ben had jumped into her car with a bag of cash in his hand and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. They’d driven out of that town like all the demons of hell were after them, and now here they were again: the two of them in a stolen car in the middle of the prairie with nothing but their wits and whatever future they were brave enough to build.

 

“Where are we going?” asked Ben, tugging Rey across the leather seat so she leaned against him. His breath fogged in the air, swirling and dissipating like a dream.

 

Rey smiled, remembering another morning in which she’d asked that same question. “Anywhere we want.”

 

 

**Trenton, New Jersey, 1942**

 

Heat radiated off the asphalt parking lot as Rey’s wheelchair jolted across the cracked surface. Police cruisers were parked off to the side of the buildings, and now, years out of the game, Rey could pass a cop and her heart-rate would only accelerate a little bit.

 

Her hair was curled and pinned, her lips slicked with pink, and a thin cotton sheet was gathered around her legs, politely shielding them from view. She was just a poor little polio survivor, and nobody looked at her twice.

 

Someone held the door to the the jail open, likely feeling sympathetic for the handsome man pushing the pretty girl in the chair, and Ben thanked them. Rey could hear the grin in his voice.

 

Just because they’d gotten away didn’t mean that they stayed out of trouble. They needed _some_ fun in their lives, the rich rubber baron and his pretty little wife. Only Ben would have known to buy a rubber plant in New Jersey with the spoils of their illegal past life. Only Ben would have been lucky enough to suddenly own one of the only rubber factories in the Allied countries after war gripped the world again.

 

Not that Rey was _happy_ about the war… but luck was luck.

 

And she was in the police station to pass it around.

 

Ben rolled her to the front desk, and she smiled sweetly at the middle-aged man sitting behind it. He smiled back; Rey loved that he couldn’t help it. “We’re here to see Matteo Ricci,” said Rey.

 

The desk attendant’s smile melted away. “Ricci, but-”

 

“We were told that his bail had been set,” said Ben, all calm, good-hearted solicitousness.

 

“Well, yes,” said the officer. “But- wait, who are you?”

 

“His godparents,” said Ben smoothly. “I’m Adam Davison, and this is my wife, Eva.”

 

The man nodded. “You know your godson’s bail was set at a thousand dollars, don’t you?”

 

“Of course,” said Ben, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

 

He paid the fee, signed the court papers, and soon enough they were being led back to see their “godson”.

 

“Lucky kid,” the officer called. “Not everyone has rich godparents that care enough to spring scum like you.”

 

“I don’t have-” the skinny kid in the cells caught sight of Ben and Rey- their jewelry, their clothes, their winks. “Anything to say,” he finished sullenly.

 

“Good to see you, kid,” said Ben, rocking back on his heels.

 

“You too,” said the boy, squinting suspiciously.

 

He followed them out into the parking lot, and Ben pointed to their car. It was a cream Plymouth De Luxe, and Matteo’s mouth dropped open.

 

“Hey, what’s the deal?” he asked. “I’m not going anywhere with you, just ‘cause you think you bought me or somethin’-”

 

“Just get in the car,” said Ben. “Unless you want the cops getting suspicious.”

 

That shut him up, and he slid suspiciously into the backseat.

 

“Where do you live?” Ben asked after sliding Rey into the passenger seat and stowing her chair in the trunk.

 

“East Trenton,” said the kid, arms crossed.

 

“Fine,” said Ben. He pulled out of the lot, turned south on a one way street, and then headed east.

 

“Why’d you do it?” asked Matteo. “Wha’d’ya want?”

 

“We don’t want a thing,” said Rey. “We just heard you’d trashed a cop car and thought it would be fun to spring you.”

 

It _was_ fun. Every morning Ben would open up the paper and read her the crime clippings as they sat in their sunny, quiet breakfast nook. He’d read her whatever ludicrous crimes had been committed, tell her about the court cases, and then every once in a while they’d come across one that was funny enough or spectacular enough or sad enough to get them down to the police station. They’d bail out whatever poor schmuck had been dumb enough to be arrested, and then they’d go home and laugh.

 

Rey Parker and Ben Solo were dead- dead and buried under a stone that had been paid for by an anonymous benefactor. The stone read:

 

Here lie Ben and Rey of the Solo Gang:

Lived too fast and died too soon.

1908-1935

1910-1935

Do not stand at my grave and weep-

I am not there, I do not sleep.

  


The poem had been Rey’s idea, and she and Ben had laughed themselves silly over it. Most took it as a sign of the Solo Gang’s freedom in death.

 

Ben and Rey knew it was a tongue-in-cheek joke about them being free in life.

 

“Why’d you do it?” asked Ben.

 

“I’m sick of ‘em,” spat Matteo. “They come in our neighborhood and tell us we’re dirty, that we stink of onions, to go back home. We’re just working like everyone else!”

 

It was true- despite the fact that Trenton had about the same cultural makeup as Rome, Italian and Irish citizens seemed far more likely to be arrested for jaywalking or public drunkenness or just ...living.

 

“Want a job?” asked Rey, and Ben shot her a look. She gave him a _look_ back: he was in charge of bookkeeping and manufacturing, but _she_ was in charge of personnel

“We own Davidson's Rubber,” she said.

 

“My cousin works there,” said Matteo, perking up. “He works third shift. He makes good money!”

 

By the time they dropped Matteo off in East Trenton, he had an appointment to come into the factory the following Monday.

 

“Did we ever have that much energy?” Rey asked as Matteo ran into his apartment building.

 

“Probably,” said Ben, pulling away from the sidewalk and merging back into traffic. “Where to?” he asked, glancing over at Rey. He had grey in his sable hair now, and laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she loved him.

 

“Home,” said Rey. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it! I FINISHED this thing! I know it's been approximately one geologic age since I updated, and I'm really sorry. I got sucked back into the Game of Thrones fandom, and I participated (SUCCESSFULLY!) in NaNoWriMo, so life was busy! I hope the end was satisfying. 
> 
> (Also don't worry, I'll always be a Reylo and I'll be writing more Ben and Rey in the future. I just need to move fandoms once in a while so I don't get bored and stale.)
> 
> THANK YOU to all who read this and cheered me on! I really, REALLY love the Reylo fandom. It's one of the most welcoming and most supportive groups of people I've found on the internet. 
> 
> Please feel free to chat with me on [tumblr](lonelyspacebabies.tumblr.com). Oh, you should also read [Violet's Rey/Ben fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757362/chapters/39315739) set on a rich person island in the 1920s! You'll love it!


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